Prinzessin
by edwardandbella4evah
Summary: Courtney and Duncan in the times of the Holocaust. Courtney is a Jew, and Duncan is a German soldier. Not your average D/C holocaust story. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok I decided that I will go ahead and publish this story! YAY! Thank you to all who voted and all those stories will be published soon/ eventually! KJ should be updated this week so stay tuned!**

**Kudos to my fantastic beta Calamity Now, formerly known as Sweet Heroin. Thanks so much for her help! I3 u!**

**Enjoy!**

I bolted up in my bed, a sheen of sweat covering my forehead. Loud noises from the outside startling me awake. I quickly got out of bed and stretched, my back festering from the hard, lumpy mattress I was forced to sleep on.

I got dressed quickly and warmly due to the due to the chilly October weather. My mother joined me outside a few moments after, clearly wanting to inspect the source of the noise too. There were numerous trucks, and soldiers exiting them and surrounding the small ghetto, making sure no one could escape. My stomach sunk, leaving a hollow pit as I huddled closer to my mother, who put an arm around me. Undeniably worried and scared of what the Germans would do to us now.

"Jews!" A big burly solider called out, making me stand up tall, showing no sign of weakness. "You are all being relocated." My heart sunk further, where to this time?

"We just got here!" A man called out.

"Where to now? This is the third time my children and I have had to relocate!" A woman in her early thirties called out. I recognized them as our neighbors in this ghetto; the woman was very kind, despite our predicament, her name was Leah. I helped her with her children along with some of the other children of the Ghetto. I was responsible for teaching the children English and Yiddish. She had four children; the oldest one, Eliana, was 17 and with a child, raped from a German soldier in the past year. Two sons followed after, 13 and 8. Yitzchak and Reuben. And last, and most definitely not least in my book, was little Rivkah. Rivkah was a sickly little child, a bit too small for her age of six, looking more like a big four-year-old. She was the quietest, sweetest little girl here, and followed me around like she was my shadow.

I looked up to their family and once catching eyes with Rivkah, she ran towards me through the sea of crowding people and I held her in my arms, stroking back her light brown curls and trying to be strong for her.

"Quiet filthy Jews! You will do what we tell you or we will shoot! Now you have ten minutes to gather your belongings before we ship you off to be relocated in your last location." His eyes were dark and hinting at something malicious but I didn't think much of it; all of these Germans were malevolent, cruel, and evil.

"No! I don't want to relocate. This is against our rights, we're people too you know!" I yelled causing a certain German to turn his head and gaze at me. He whispered something to another comrade of his before stepping towards me. I faltered, pushing little Rivkah behind me for her own safety. Before I knew it, he raised his hand and smacked me on both sides of my face. I cried out, trying to still be strong, but failing miserably.

"You, you're coming with me." He spoke, with a light German accent. His hair was shaved in a buzz cut, but the color was jet-black. His body was lean and muscular, and though short for a man of his stature, he still hovered over me by a couple of inches. My eyes widened as I pulled back in shock.

"No!" I was rewarded with a kick in the back from one of his comrades that had come up behind me. The kick had made me fall over, my dress becoming dirty from the cold dirt ground.

"You think you have a choice Jew? You're wrong. Now come with me this instant if you don't want to be killed on the spot." For emphasis, he took his gun out and pointed it to my forehead, causing worried whispers arise throughout the swarm of people. I could hear my mother start crying, and I fought as to not start crying as well.

"So what's your choice Jew? Stand up and come with me, or die right now?" I looked back at my weeping mother, being restrained by a German soldier, and little Rivkah, who went back to mother, but was looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. I gulped, seeing as I had no other choice. I would rather be taken by this man, be beaten, raped, and possibly left pregnant, than leave my mother alone. I almost spat at the man's shoes. Monster, a monster, that's what he was. I stood up slowly, ignoring the searing pain in my back, and refused to look at the man, but down on the ground instead. I didn't want to look at the man who would take my dignity away and supposedly rape me.

He grabbed my hand and led me to his truck, silent the whole time.

I stole one more glance at my mother; the soldier had released her, and she gave me one last reassuring others started heading to their small homes and began to pack. I held my locket securely, glad I hadn't left that or my picture behind. I learned from previous experiences to never leave my two precious items behind.

He roughly shoved me into the back of the truck which seemed like a wooden crate from where I was sitting. Another guard came and tied up my hands and feet, leaving my eyes open and wide. The part where the guards drove the truck was blocked out, leaving only me and that monster together.

"What's your name, Jew?" I turned my head, refusing to look at him or answer his question. I felt a sharp smack again, a bit harder than the first. I cried out again, biting my lip as to not start to cry. I bit it so hard, blood drew out.

"If you want to survive, I suggest you learn some respect, Hundin," he spat, using the German word for bitch. "Now, I will ask again, what is your name hundin?"

"Courtney." I said bitterly.

"That's not a Jewish name, from my experience. Explain yourself, Jew."

"My Jewish name is Channa, but only my father called me that...before he died." He softened for about a second before turning hard again.

"Look me in the eye Courtney, when I talk to you. If you don't learn respect, you won't survive here."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Now look at me." I slowly raised my eyes to meet his, and that's when I really saw him. Bright aqua orbs, beautiful aqua, baby-blue orbs met mine. If it weren't for the cruelty behind them, and the fact that he was a German monster, I'd say he were one of the most handsome men I'd ever met.

"Very good. Now, here's what will happen. You will ride with me to your new settlement along with the other Jews. You will work, or you die. You won't be treated special anymore, unless I decide to keep you around. Is that understood Hundin?"

"Yes." I replied curtly, not saying any more than I felt necessary. He smiled cruelly yet proudly and began pacing the truck.

"You will say 'yes sir' to me from now on." I nodded my head, willing to do anything that would spare me any harm.

"Good, do you have anything to say for yourself, Jew?"

"WIll I be reunited with my mother? The other jews from the ghetto?" He smirked at me; but I kept my icy look on.

"Depends how good of a little die dirne you are." I nearly choked, but kept my trembling to myself as I tried to bring my legs closer to my chest.

"Do as I say, don't resist, and I might help you later on." I nodded shakily as he moved my legs down, untied my hands from the front of my chest, to behind my chest, so I couldn't do anything to stop him. He removed my long, brown cotton dress, leaving me in my lingerie and slip. I yearned to put my hands over my semi exposed chest, but I couldn't due to them being tied up. My trembling became heavier as he inched near me, running his hands up and down my legs, reaching higher and higher. He violated every territory I had put up.

Once he finished he backed away, with me shaking like a leaf. He untied my knots, giving me the privilege to get dressed again. Once I did, and he tied me up again. He just scanned me over again and again and again, it seemed like hours until he looked me in the eyes again.

"Such a shame. You're so pretty, especially your hair. Such a shame it all has to go." If my hand's hadn't been tied up, they would've immediately flown up to my long plait.

"What, what do you mean? Tell me now!" I choked out with what little voice I had left. He pulled the end of the plait teasingly and got up, heading for the front of the truck.

"Get some sleep, we have a long ride ahead of us." I gaped at him, but tried to get comfortable on the wooden wall.

"Remember, you aren't going to be treated special anymore."

"I know."

"Sweet resting, Prinzessin." He exited the compartment I was in and my mind whirled about the past event. Such a hypocrite...telling me I wouldn't be treated special, then calling me a Princess. Monster, filthy monster.


	2. Big Changes

**I'm really glad you liked the last chapter :) I didn't think it would become that popular, that fast. Since you guys all want the next chapter, I decided I'd give it to you now. I wanted to wait until I had a few more chapters edited, but I think I'll be good on that. Or, at least I'll try to. This chapter doesn't have any sexual scenes in it, so I think you'll be good if you don't like that stuff.**

**Oh, and another thing. There's a story here called Gwen's pregnant, and she claims her story is better than Courtney's pregnant. I just want to hear your feedback, what do you guys think? Don't bother flaming it, she'll just be happy about it.**

**Enjoy!**

**o 0 O 0 o**

"Wake up, wake up Prinzessin!" A sharp kick awoke me from my dreamless sleep. I groggily sat up, rubbing my smarting thigh. I looked up into the man's face, beginning to shake when I realized it was the same man who violated me last night. I felt so violated, I was touched by a German. A good for nothing monster. Someone who I should never even make communication with, much less let touch me like that. How could he do such a thing to me? Why me of all people? Couldn't he choose someone else, someone with much less a status or much less a brain? My body felt weak, trashed. As if I'd bathed in pig slop. I looked up at him, he had a grave smile on his face.

"This is where you get off, welcome to Aushwitz," he said, as my eyes widened. Aushwitz was the name of one of those camps. A work camps...where many many died. I'd thought those camps were just rumors; silly stories to scare us all. I became wide awake as he dragged me upright.

I couldn't work; I hadn't worked a single day in my life, except for teaching the children languages. My family was a rich one back in my town, back before we had been forced to relocate to the ghetto. I'd had servants, and maids too. I didn't know how to cook, or clean. What if they killed me off because I couldn't work?

'Get a grip Courtney', I tried to tell myself. I'm a fast learner, I have to live. I have to see my mother again. I have to live for daddy.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked, noticing how badly my pits were stained, and how badly I reeked. He untied my arms and I rubbed them, then felt my hair and how greasy it was.

"About two days." I'd slept for two days, how was that possible? Could it be that he injected me with sedatives while I was sleeping to keep me asleep? What if he raped me while I was sleeping? I quickly tried to scan my body of any sign of a pinprick or injection sight, but I couldn't find one. I tried to take a deep breath to steady myself, but the dusty air filled my system, and I started coughing heavily. My throat felt dry and parched, and I badly needed some water to clear it.

"You'll see me around the camp, but don't expect me to treat you any differently." I nodded, saving my throat from further use.

"Can I have a glass of water? And a shower would be very nice too." He smirked and started laughing at me and I raised my eyebrows in confusion. Even in the ghetto I was allowed a hot shower. It wasn't very private, but it was still there. He stopped, thinking my question might have been a joke, but when he saw the confusion in my eyes, he smirked and explained quickly.

"You really are a Prinzessin. What part about no special treatment didn't you understand? You are müll, a shmatte, garbage. You understand? You are a worthless piece of trash." I stayed silent, biting back tears. He smirked again and shoved me backwards, I stumbled and fell but refused to make a sound of pain.

"Don't worry Prinzessin, you'll get your shower. All you shmattes are dirty from your journey to the camp, we need you clean at first. We can't afford you getting sick. You get sick, you die." I shuddered, trying to hold back another round of coughs. How did he know what a shmatte was? That was a yiddish word. He couldn't be Jewish and have this bad of a hate towards us.

"How do you know how to speak yiddish? You're a German." His face darkened and he turned away from me. He took a few moments in recollecting himself before turning back around to face me.

"I pick it up from you other Jews in the camp. Now stop kvetshing and get up. Complaining won't do you any good." He smirked, using yet another yiddish word.

"Sure thing, shmendrik German." I smirked, feeling I had the upper hand. I could play the name game with him too. I was soon proved very wrong as he suddenly lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, and threw me against the wall. I didn't have time to register the pain as he stood me up quickly and gave me a sharp blow in my stomach.

"You'll never survive here. Learn some respect. I know it might be hard for you to do and all, _Prinzessin_, but if you want to survive, you better. Understood?" He growled, while I tried to sit up, holding my stomach in pain while tears ran down my face.

"Y-yes sir." He smirked darkly for a moment but said nothing. He lifted me up, clutching me by the waist, I hissed in pain but he retaliated by slapping my face. He opened the door, and thrust me out roughly by my long plait. He dragged me across the dirt pathway, while I stayed silent, trying to choke off the tears and let go of the pain.

I saw numerous trucks and boxcars, bunches of people and families being shoved out of them as well. I looked around, this place scared me to death. Large wire fences surrounded everything, making me feel trapped, much like a prisoner. Guards and soldiers were patrolling everywhere, giving my captor a sharp nod while snickering at me. Was it common for guards to take young girls as captives? I felt out of place, and terrified that I would never see my mother again. A sign off in the distance read 'work makes you free'. Water troughs were there, where horses were drinking. We passed by them, and I gasped in horror when I saw a dead baby floating atop of the water. The German squeezed my hand and as we got closer, I saw more dead, and I was suddenly glad that I had went along with this German instead of the others.

"Zur hoelle mit dir," he muttered viciously under his breath. I trembled, hoping he wasn't talking about me. He raised me up, and pushed me towards the crowd of people and began talking.

"You will be made to work here. You won't be treated like a Prinzessin, and you most certainly wont look like one. No guard will treat you as _nicely_ as I've treated you." I was about to say something nasty, but held it back, in case he gave me anymore helpful instructions.

"You can't get sick here, under no circumstances. You get sick, you can't work, and they send you there." He pointed to a shed like place, only much bigger, and the chimney was spewing black smoke that smelled foul. It hit me then, the smokestack. Jews were burned up there when they couldn't work. I nodded gravely as a signal that I understood.

"You will be my little toy here, I decided I'll keep you, Prinzessin. Every night, you will be escorted by other guards to my quarters. You shall not speak to them, and you will not be as disrespectful to them as you were to me, because they wont forgive you as easy and you _will_ be punished. I shall do to you as I please, and you won't refuse, understood?" Tears leaked out of my eyes and I nodded, hoping things couldn't get much worse.

"You will not address me in any way, or engage in any conversation with me if you see me in the camp. I will shoot you, little duck, and you can be replaced easily. You don't understand how lucky you are."

"What can I address you as when we are," I had to gulp and choke out the word, "alone?" He smirked, seeing I understood the situation I was in.

"Duncan. You've been a good little duckling to me and let me do as I please to you, so I've decided to let you reunite with your mother and friends...while they're still alive." He shoved me forward as I looked up to the crowd of people we had approached. I quickly spotted my mother, dirty and looking terrified, amongst the crowd of people. I shot up and ran to her, calling out. She quickly spotted me and embraced me, tears running down both of our dirty faces.

"Oh..oh..yalda sheli..." She crooned, starting to speak in hebrew as she rocked me back and forth.

"Mama, I'm okay really. He didn't do anything except hit me some," I half lied in an attempt to make her feel better.

"Mifletzet...oh vey....thank the lord he didn't..."

"I know...mama I was so scared," I choked out, starting to sob. She held me tighter, rubbing my head and kissing my cheeks."Mama, where's everyone? Leah, Reuben, Yitzchak, Rivkah, Eliana, anyone?" She sullenly pointed to the family; Eliana clutching her baby to her chest, Leah holding a terrified looking Rivkah and Reuben, and a sullen looking Yitzchak. I nodded sullenly as guards approached the large group of Jewish people.

"Men to the left! Women to the right! Schnell, Schnell!" They shouted, people running everywhere. Reuben was torn from his mother, Yitzchak promising to watch over him. Rivkah spotted us, and what was left of their family came over to us, and we huddled together, scared out of our minds. Guards and soldiers led us towards one of the barracks, where we were all crammed into and forced to stand in the large, solitary looking room. A tall asian woman, with long dark hair came towards us. She scanned us up and down, sneering at us and scowling at others.

"You Jews, you are all zugangi, newcomers. The lowest of the low. Lower than the rats even." She looked at me haughtily and made me feel inferior. The fact that she was German, and could do much worse to me than Duncan had made me remember his warning from before.

'_No guard will treat you as nicely as I've treated you.'_

I shivered slightly knowing that, to the Germans, I was just the same as any other jew here no matter what status or class I'd had other girls looked at me in shock at my strange display of emotions, never before seeing me as anything but strong and asian woman scanned me up and down, stopping at my chest.

"You, in the brown dress," she addressed me. I looked up at her gray, heartless eyes and she smiled cruelly.

"Give me your necklace. It would look nice on me." I gasped, along with my mother. I clasped my hand around the necklace fingering it gently.

"No! This is mine, my father gave it to me before he died!" I shouted, vehemence in my voice. She came over and slapped me hard on both cheeks before punching me in the stomach. I started crying silently, standing up slowly, one hand on my cheek that stung badly from the blow. I withdrew my hand and saw a small line of blood. The women was wearing rings on her fingers, and when she slapped me the rings had probably cut me. That would explain the stinging, burning sensation on my cheek.

"You never say no here, hundin, not if you want to live," she spat in my face, while I cringed back from the low blow. I retaliated back by stepping forward and showing her that I wasn't scared.

"I _will_ live," I growled, her stepping back and smiling maliciously.

"Give me your daddy's precious necklace then, it goes with my uniform." I slowly and unwillingly unclasped the necklace from the back, and handed it to her. She smiled, spat on it and rubbed it to make it shine, then clasped it on her skinny neck.

"I am Blokova Heather. You need only to address me, if at all, as Blokova. And now, you all shall go in there," she said, pointing to a long, narrow hallway. I shivered from nerves, but the cold didn't help.

"Schnell zugangi, if you haven't figured what that means already, you better learn quick, or you'll die." I figured it meant fast, or quickly. We all hurried towards the hall way and found ourselves in another large, hollow room. Little Rivkah came next to me and I held her in my arms tightly, as if to protect her. The woman and girls started talking amongst themselves before Heather came back; and when she did, she was crabbier than before.

"Quiet! Quiet!" she screamed, putting up her hands as if she had authority over us. "Since you all stink and are filthier than the dump from your trip here, you must have a shower. Undress here, it must be done quickly so we can get you settled." Eliana gasped, holding her baby tighter to her.

"Right _here_? In front of each other?" Heather looked disgusted, and appalled.

"You haven't learned the first rule here yet have you? You do whatever we tell you, and you don't answer back. Now undress quickly, before the men guards come in. And you," she pointed to me. "Untie your plait." I nodded, wondering why.

We all started stripping slowly. I bent down and untied my shoes slowly, thinking all the while; what was going to happen next?

In ten minutes, we all stood naked, shivering from the cold. I was huddled close to my mother, who was unbraiding my tight, long plait. The door burst open, and two male guards came ambling in. I bent over, my long hair covering my bare breasts and my hands trying to cover everything else. How dare they send males to come and see the women, Those sick bastards. I looked up, noticing one of the guards being Duncan. His eyes clouded over as he tried to look away from my bare body. I didn't dare betray his rules and acknowledge I knew who he was.

"Into the showers ladies, and then to the barber." I almost choked as my head snapped up. Duncan didn't look at me, his lips forming into a smirk when he caught sight of some other naked girls. Sick chazzer. I didn't think much of it, barber could mean anything, it could mean anything, I tried to assure myself as the guards shoved us to the showers.

I yelped when the cold water hit my back, it was ice cold. I tried to suck it up as I tried clearing dirt off of my body, and tried scrubbing it out of my long hair, which was hard to do due to there being no soap offered to us. I tilted my head back as to drink some of the water. My throat thanked me profusely as I drank until my stomach was full. Suddenly the water was turned off and we were hurried into the next room by shouting soldiers and guards.

Our clothes were gone, and we had nothing to change into. No towels to dry ourselves off either. I shivered, clutching my arms while crossing them over my bare chest. Some of the girls started to whimper and it took all my courage not to join along with them. We waited ten minutes, shivering, in the cold, dark room before a door from the outside opened and Duncan strode in, a feeble, dark prisoner on his arm.

"Here is the barber. You ladies will make a line for him and he will do his job. No hair, no lice." One of my hands left my chest to hold my hair. I looked at Duncan, who still kept his eyes away from me, but I noticed he was grinning as he caught the horrified looks on the girls' faces.I watched in utter horror as the so called barber cut the women's hair, without any skill at all, usually pulling out large clumps with the large scissors. It was after the first woman that I started whimpering, but not yet crying; still trying to be strong. My mother stood tall and tried to look proud as her hair was shorn, I admired her, knowing I could never be as proud as she. Little Rivkah screamed and sobbed as my heart went out to her, my mother held her close as the barber snipped off her little curls, making her sob harder.

When the barber came to me, I saw Duncan's head snap up, me feeling embarrassed the whole time. Duncan didn't look away when I uttered a small whimper, feeling very childish, especially as all of the older women looked at me, some with shame, others with pity. I started sobbing as he started shearing off large clumps of my hair and I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at anyone, and not bothering to stay strong. When he was finished, I opened my eyes and found long strands and chunks of hair on the floor, I bit my lip as to not scream, and my mother enclosed me in her arms. I didn't dare put a hand up on my head to see what was the result of my hair. I looked up at Duncan, who just smirked at my weakened moment, and when I incidentally walked near him to get to the benches, he laughed a bit, and I resisted to whirl around and smack him.

We sat on a bench for a long time, naked, hairless and shivering. After a while, the time couldn't be marked anymore and the only sound that was heard was the _snick-snack_ of the scissors and the occasional scream or cry from the barber's victims, none as hysterical as mine.

After awhile, Heather entered the room again, scanning us all, and once her eyes caught mine, and she scanned me over, she smirked victoriously. She looked at Duncan, and I saw her give him a flirtatious smile, and he gravely returned it.

"Schnell! Hurry, into the next room! You need clothes!" We all stood up and I caught Rivkah's hand, leading her with me. She started sucking on her thumb, and I noticed her lips starting to turn blue. The room had a long table with old, disgusting clothes that looked like shmattes. I scowled as I hesitantly picked up a blue vest.

"Choose, Jew," she said, talking to me. "You can't be fancy now." Duncan's words from earlier rang in my head.

"_You won't be treated like a Prinzessin, and you most certainly wont look like one."_

He was right, the shorn hair, the ratty clothes. Certainly not fit for a princess. I reached into the pile and pulled out a pink dress, luckily it didn't stink as bad but it wouldn't keep me warm, and the fabric was uncomfortable. I quickly slung it over my arm, and gasped in pure joy when I had come across a pair of old underwear and a camisole to wear under my dress. I didn't care that it was used, and old. Just finding some in here seemed like a pure miracle. I slipped everything on quickly. The dress didn't fit me right, it was shapeless and itchy, and I shivered in it. I tried to ignore it and helped little Rivkah choose a pair of blue shorts and a green top. Unluckily, I couldn't find a pair of underwear for her. I found us two much too large sweaters and dressed in them, grateful for the little warmth they provided over my thin dress.

Once we were dressed, we were ushered quickly into another room. We were forced to make a single file line as girls, women and children sat down on a chair and a man worked on them, I couldn't see what he was doing to them from my spot in line, so waited impatiently for my turn. Once it was my turn I sat down and a man with an unsmiling face looked up sadly at me.

"What is your name? And age?"

"Courtney. Courtney Politzer. I'm seventeen." He looked down sadly and pressed a sharp metal thing in my arm. I tried to pry my hand away, but his other arm held it down, with experience like he'd dealt with this a million times before. It really hurt, and I choked back my sobs as I started crying again. The needle stung when it touched my flesh, and when the tattooer took it off to quickly refill the ink, my skin burned, and I could see a faint line of blood where my arm used to be pure and unscathed. When he was finished my arm read _J17492_.

"Forget whatever your old name was. Remember your number, or you die." I stood up as he shouted 'Next!' and saw my mother cradling a crying Rivkah in her lap as her arm was tattooed too. After what seemed like forever, we were all assigned to one barrack. The walls were peeling and unpainted, rats ran around aimlessly, as if to just scare us all. I was disgusted at the sight. What seemed like triple bunk beds were set up, there were many of them. My mother and I helped Rivkah into one, with the promise of food, and warmth for the next day.

Suddenly, a loud knock came from the door and one of the women came to open it. A soldier stood in the door way and scanned us all, his eyes catching onto me.

"Commander Duncan has asked me to escort number _J17492 _ to his quarters," he stated, and my eyes widened. After all of the events that had already occurred today, what else could possibly be inflicted on me? I stood up sullenly, ignoring the shocked looks from my mother, Leah, Eliana, and all the other women, and let the soldier escort me to his quarters.

We passed many places and halls while I noticed that the commanders all seemed to be enjoying themselves. I resisted the urge to spit on the floor. I muttered 'devils from hell' under my breath, not loud enough for anyone to hear. He lead me to the dark room and once there, pushed me in and shut the door. Duncan looked up from his spot on the bed and motioned me over. He scanned me up and down, even running a hand over my ragged, butchered head and pulling off my sweater to examine the pink, shapeless dress.

"I told you you wouldn't look like a Prinzessin..." he quietly said after awhile, looking away bitterly. I kept my gaze directed to the floor but he roughly jerked my chin up.

"You couldn't choose a different outfit though? A dress isn't suitable in this environment, you'll have to work, not amble around from party to party. You'll get sick quickly. Just had to look like a Prinzessin, didn't you?"

"I don't look like a Prinzessin," I whispered bitterly. He put a hand on my face for a moment, then quickly stood up and took it off, as if having his hand on my face burned. I rubbed the part where his hand was, trying to get rid of the lingering touch and the filthy feeling that he'd left on my face.

"You made a fool of yourself today, sobbing like that. It's just hair, not the end of the world, little bird." He mocked acidly, making me feel embarrassed and inferior. I didn't often look weak, and I hated when people saw me break down like that. I didn't dare speak, already too upset by the day's outcome's to provide a comeback or fight back.

"You could've warned me," was what I ended up saying. It was all I could say at the moment. He sighed and looked at me, a hint of a smirk on his mouth.

"But then that would've ruined all the fun." I wanted to smack him so badly, I ached to, that selfish bastard. Stupid German bastard.

"Cheer up birdie, things don't get much worse from here. I even signed you up for an easy job. There's no way you can fail that."

"What job?" I asked meekly.

"Dishwashing duty, along with serving out food during mealtimes," he said with a smirk. "I figured a Prinzessin like you would be better with a job like that than hauling wood." He raised his eyebrows when I didn't answer, and started playing with my thumbs slightly.

"I don't know how to do chores like that, back in the shtetle, I had people to do those jobs for me." He rolled his eyes at me and simply looked at me, just scolding me with his eyes.

"You really, really are a Prinzessin. Don't worry, I'm sure you can learn fairly quickly. Something tells me you're a fast learner. Besides, this job won't have you getting sick as quickly." At the thought of the job itself, I thought of food. I suddenly felt extreme hunger. I had never been a heavy eater, but no food for three days was a lot. I groaned and Duncan waited for me to explain myself.

"I'm hungry. I haven't eaten in days. I'm sure you haven't ever felt that feeling, _German_," I snidely commented while he merely chuckled darkly. He turned around, and fumbled in a small burlap bag, from which he pulled out a half-loaf of bread.

"I figured you'd want some _Jew_, everyone knows what being hungry feels like. But this bread comes with a price." He held he bread out to me as I felt my face heat up. Although I didn't want to accept the bread, I couldn't help but wonder what this 'price' was.

"What kind of price, I don't have any money on me if that's what you're saying." He started laughing again, and played with the bread as if it was a ball, just throwing it up and catching it while I stared at it hungrily.

"I'm a man, Prinzessin, and I demand favors. Sexual favors," he stated bluntly while my face turned red from the thought. Sex with a German was an impure thing, I wanted only a Jewish man. And I would never touch this monster if I could help it.

"No. Never. I would never touch a filthy, vicious, killing accept chazzer like you. Not even if I was dying." He shrugged, threw the bread to the side and said, "suit yourself." My stomach grumbled from looking at the bread so much and I felt awful that the bread had gone to waste, even though I would've never done what he asked.

"What are you going to do to me tonight?" I asked worriedly, wondering if it was going to be worse than the last time. I shuddered, beginning to tremble.

"I decided you've been through enough today. I think I just want to get to know the little Prinzessin tonight." I gaped; what? A _German_ wanted to get to know me, _a Jew_. Someone he despised so much. Why would I want to get to know him? Albeit he was handsome, but he was a monster. A damned monster from hell who killed small children, women and men for his enjoyment.

"Why on earth would I tell you about myself? _I hate you._ You're a fucking monster! You can watch all that happened today, and not feel a fucking thing! You murder_ small children _and _helpless women _and_ men _for your_ stupid, selfish enjoyment_. You're a son of a fucking bitch, and I'd never, ever be associated with the likes of you." He chuckled again and his eyes clouded over. Before I knew it, he threw me on the floor and straddled me. He punched my face where it would hurt the most, and I hissed in pain.

"Yeah but, you don't really have a choice. You're my _toy_. I could fucking rape you right now, and feel nothing about hurting you. I'm giving you a choice no other German would give a Jew like you. So what'll it be Prinzessin?" I sighed shakily and brought my knees to my chest. I didn't really have a choice in this situation, either be raped, or just talk with a German.

"What do you want to hear?" I mumbled bitterly, keeping my eyes downcast to the dingy floor.

"Tell me about yourself, and make a story of it. All the bastards here are uncreative and stupid." He replied flippantly and leaned back against a wall, watching me with his intense blue eyes.

"Back home I lived with my mama and papa, and we were happy."

"Because you were rich?" Duncan cut in sharply and gave me a cold look.

"No. Because papa was still alive." I replied curtly and raised my chin, I wasn't so shallow as to think that money equaled happiness.

"Did he die in one of our camps?" Duncan asked smugly.

"N-no. A disease that was spreading made him i-ill." I stammered, my pride vanishing within seconds as I was staring back at the gross dirty floor, staring at a spider making it's way over to it's prey. "A-and even though...even though the ph-ph-physician said he would..." I stopped, choking on a sob. "Get better...he didn't." The tears were flowing down my cheeks and I didn't bother to wipe them away, it didn't matter.

"Stop crying." Duncan said harshly and stuck his thumb under my chin, forcing me to meet his blue eyes. "You haven't suffered any yet. Get back to your mama, you'll need sleep for tomorrow." He sneered and pointed to the door. I got up clumsily and stumbled over my own two feet as I nearly ran back to my own barrack.


	3. Learning the Rules

**Well, hello again you guys. How was your Christmas? If you didn't celebrate christmas, like me, then how was your yesterday? :). Okay, I was dying to update this chapter yesterday as a Christmas present to you guys, but then I got into some trouble with my mom and she wouldn't let me on the computer. So, enjoy this one-day-late Christmas present/very early New Year's present. Okay, so now my beta is taking a tiny holiday break to refresh herself, which is more than fine with me, so I don't think there will be another chapter this week :(. But hey, everyone needs a break sometime, even me :). So, make do with this chapter till next week! Thanks a whole lot to my super awesome beta Calamity Now, I could have never done this without her help. Enjoy you guys!**

That first night in the camp was the hardest. No one could get through the night without crying or a nightmare haunting their much-needed sleep. I was no exception to this tacit rule and stayed awake numerous hours lying on my sweater on my wooden shelf crying.

Why were we the ones subject to this horror? What had we done wrong? These unspoken questions ran through my head repeatedly, while more tears flowed down my cheeks. I was suddenly glad that papa wasn't here to see me like this. What would he think? My dignity gone, hair butchered and forced into old, stinking, worn-out clothes. Along with the starvation that would soon engulf me whole. It occurred to me that I didn't know exactly what papa would have thought of me at this moment.

I turned over and put the thought out, trying to figure out what would happen tomorrow.

I was wondering what could happen; would it be worse than today? I hazily recalled Duncan mentioning something about a job. Something about an easy job; I couldn't place my finger on it, I was too tired.

My stomach rumbled again as I remembered my conversation from Duncan earlier. I hungrily remembered the bread, and how good it looked to me in my starved state.

'Maybe I should've done what he asked. I'm so hungry, and I don't even know when I'm getting any food. One night wouldn't have been so bad to do what he asked...' I thought ravenously. I shook my head angrily; hitting it against the cold board on purpose to get the thought out of my system. Thinking about what Duncan would've had me do mad me shiver. Filthy, sick schmeisser.

Frustratedly, trying to get the mere thought of that revolting chazzer out of my head, I closed my eyes. Why did he choose me of all the girls here? There are much prettier ones here, even with their hair gone and their mouths unfed. I'm sure there'd be some girl who was willing to do his sinful deeds. So why me?

Eventually I fell asleep, thoughts of bread and mama's fresh challah in my head. I didn't dream that night, and I took that as a small miracle from god.

I shot awake when the door to our barrack banged open, with a husky and shifty-eyed guard walking in.

"You Jews come out now if you want food, schnell," he said gruffly before stepping out and slamming the door shut as brutally as he came in.

I sat up, rubbing my tired eyes slowly, then without thinking I rubbed my aching head and for the first time I felt what was left of my once beautiful, long hair. Most was sheared off, but I still felt spots that stuck out awkwardly. I resisted the urge to utter out a mournful cry and stepped off of my shelf, cringing as the cold hit my bare shoulders.

I quickly plucked my sweater, off my shelf and pulled it on rapidly. I shivered when it didn't help against the bitter cold and quickly padded over to my mother, still sound asleep.

"Mama...mama wake up, they're giving us food, if we hurry. Come on," I whispered gently as I shook her till she finally woke with a sharp jolt. She took one glance at me and pulled me close to her, and I hugged her back for the warmth. We slowlybothwoke up nearly everyone in our barrack and shuffled out quickly to where a long line as already formed. We stood impatiently, shivering in the cold weather.

Nearly half an hour passed-or that's what it seemed like to my starved mind-before we progressed to a table, stacked with dented, metal bowls. We were told these were our bowls for everything; food, water to wash ourselves with, even for when we weren't feeling well. I grimaced, but felt that I already knew that this was the best we were to get.

I thanked the young girl who handed me my bowl, and stared at it curiously. It had an awkward dent in the center, sticking up in the middle. That would make it easy to remember that it was mine, I concluded happily, progressing in the line towards people with giant pots. I stared hungrily at it, hoping they would give us enough to fill us up. I glanced back at my small bowl and frowned.

The line progressed further and our bowls were soon filled with a dipperful of what seemed like a watery soup of sorts and we were handed a slab of hard, dark bread. My stomach growled and I started eating hungrily right then and there, and despite the bread being stale, and the soup was mostly water, it tasted wonderful to my beyond-empty stomach. Within ten minutes my food was gone and I had nothing to do but stare at everyone else eating silently. Almost everyone seemed to finish within the next few minutes, not hesitating to eat the meager portions of food. We stopped once at the barracks to put out bowls on our sleeping shelves, not wanting to lose them and carry them around during the day.

"Zugangi to center field, schnell!" Our Blokova yelled from the outside and we all hurried so she wouldn't have more reason to hate us or harm us in any way. Once we all arrived she made us stand in a wide line facing her. She dealt out kicks and slaps as she pleased, the hardest targeting me for a reason that was unknown to my mind. This time I didn't cry out from the abuse, at least not on the outside. After she was finished with the physical abuse, she assigned everyone a job; turns out Duncan kept his promise. I got placed in kitchen duty; I wasn't alone though, Eliana and two girls I didn't know were assigned there too. Mostly everyone else was placed in the sorting sheds.

I felt a pang in my chest when my mother was placed in the sorting sheds too. What if something happened to me while she was there, and I was in the kitchen? How would she reach me in time? She seemed to be having the same thought because our eyes connected, and when the Blokova dismissed us to start working we embraced once more for a few minutes before she told me we needed to start working and she would see me soon.

I said goodbye to her, and I walked with Eliana in the direction of the kitchen. It was about a ten minute walk, and about halfway there I held Eliana's baby boy for her because she complained that her arms hurt from holding him all day. I cradled the near-two-year-old in my arms and bounced him gently. He was sleeping, his sea-green eyes closed and the wind ruffled his light blonde hair. I smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead before frowning. Who would've ever thought that a creature so innocent and cute could be formed by a good-for-nothing German? Never would I let a German touch me and take advantage of me like that, I promised myself. Never.

What Duncan did to me didn't count, I was tied up and had no other choice. Never would it happen again and if it did, I'd rather go up in the smokestack and be cremated than let him rape me. Consequential, what if, I ended up with a baby, just like Eliana? How would I take care of it in this camp when I could hardly take care of myself? Besides, what would those nasty Germans would do if they saw a pregnant woman in the camp? I hadn't seen any around, and shuddered. I didn't really want to know the answer to my question anymore because it certainly wouldn't be an answer I wanted to know.

I looked back down at the baby boy in my arms and gently brushed a blond strand of hair out of his eyes. Though he was simply handsome, I could never understand why Eliana kept him instead of giving him up. He was a half-German monster. I remember that she nearly died giving birth to it. Never would I risk my life for a monster, baby or no baby. I shook my head as to confirm my thought as the baby cooed in my arms and I rested him on my hip. We arrived at the kitchen shortly thereafter and set to work.

After cleaning out one pot of soup and scraping out all the bits of potato from the bottom, my back pinched and my arms hurt. This was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do in my life; I never worked before and starting now was absolute agony. I sat down against the dirty wall, trying to take a break. Suddenly the door burst open and Duncan paraded in, scanning the other hard-working girls, teal eyes stopping on me, the only one taking a break.

"You, in the pink kleid. You should be working. What is your number?" I bit my lip and tried to rummage my head for my number. When it didn't come to me, I glanced down on my arm and meekly replied, "J17492." Without warning he smacked me, and I bit my lip harder, trying again not to cry out and seem weak in front of him. If I did, I would surely be hearing about it later.

"You must always remember your number, filthy shmatte. If not, you die. Understood?"

"Understood," I said without flinching. I knew he was right; I needed to remember my number otherwise a different, much less 'forgiving' guard would certainly send me to be cremated.

"Now, you should be working. Are you feeling ill? Can you work?" he asked with mock sincerity, clearly putting on a show for the others.

"Yes sir. I can work. I'm feeling perfectly well, sir," I replied, standing up straight and looking him in the eyes. He scanned me apprehensively and grinned.

"Well, only people that can work can live on here. You were sitting and taking a break due to fatigue, I'm assuming. Clearly you cannot work. Therefore, you must die." My eyes widened as tears began rolling down my cheeks. Was he serious? Was he going to take me to be killed? I couldn't die now! I needed to see my mother again at least once, and I hadn't gotten married yet, or had kids, I thought hysterically. Was this really going to be the end of my life? I started sobbing, and I fell on my knees, nearly begging him.

"I can work! Please don't send me to die! I can fully work, and I'll never take a break again, please!" I sobbed out, looking down at his polished, black shoes instead of his ice blue eyes. He hesitated, then kicked me back and I crashed against the wall, still sobbing.

"Filthy hundin, you don't speak to me like that. I will spare your life, this time. One slip up next time, and I will kill you myself, got that?" he growled while I could only nod. He grabbed my sweater collar and jerked my upright, forcing me to look at him.

"That isn't good enough. Tell me, how much you're thankful that I saved your fucking, worthless life, hundin." I swallowed, the sick chazzer was making me work for it, making me look weak and defenseless in front of everyone.

"Thank you, thank you so much sir. I promise I'll work twice as hard from now on, thanks to you. Thank you so much," I said, lying through my clamped teeth while still crying. He brought his head closer to mine and whispered in my ear, sending unwanted chills run down my body.

'You are going to get it tonight, Channa. We aren't finished yet, and you will be punished for this little display.' I began to tremble, cowering in fear. I was especially frightened because of what he did to me the last time he called me Channa. It made me paralyzed from the waist down, and he put me down, throwing me in the direction of the other girls. In the result, I crashed into a girl carrying a bucket of water.I coughed out water, sputtering it out and clutching my arms as I was freezing. He merely laughed at us and gave the other girls a warning too before leaving as abruptly as he came in.

"Ooh! You just had to take a break now didn't you? I just spent ten minutes getting that water! Now I have to go get it again! Nice going," the girl who had dropped the tub of water spat, before storming off to refill the giant bucket. Eliana helped me sit up and handed me a dirty, yet dry towel and I gratefully accepted it, only wincing slightly.

"Don't worry about her, she's just upset that she has to go carry that water again. Are you alright?" I nodded, still shivering from the stinging, cold air that hit my wet clothes.

"It's my fault, I'll work harder, I promise." She nodded curtly, and when the girl returned with the water we all set to scrubbing the floors and walls of the kitchen. It was excruciatingly painful, and by the time dinner was finished and I stepped onto my shelf, I was aching all over. I rubbed my aching back for the fifth time while about to tell Rivkah a story to put her to bed. She'd been with one of the other older girls all day, and she was miserable, her eyes looking cloudy and upset. I climbed onto her shelf painstakingly slow and started to tell her the same old story about the princess until she interrupted me.

"Courtney, would you make up a story this time? I don't wanna hear the same story about the prietzteh again," she whispered softly, while I stroked her cheek.

"Alright, well once, there was this little girl. And this little girl's name was-"

"Chaya!" she interrupted while I giggled and continued.

"Her name was Chaya. She was the prettiest girl in all the kingdom and-"

"Courtney." My mom called, sounding upset. I turned around to see what she wanted when I suddenly noticed the guard at the door. I gulped, not realizing that it was already time to go see Duncan. I stood, but faltered when a hand behind me grasped my own.

"You can't go Courtney! You haven't finished telling me the story!" Tears were already forming in her eyes and I took a deep breath sitting down for a moment on her bed.

"I promise I'll finish telling you the story tomorrow. Now go to sleep, the faster you do, the faster you'll have the ending to the story." I stood and kissed her forehead before heading towards the door and letting the guard escort me to Duncan's quarters. I walked slowly, rubbing my arms slightly from the pain that had just begun but stopped as soon as we arrived. Better not give Duncan anymore reason to inflict punishment on me.

"Sit on the bed, Prinzessin," he spoke, once we were alone on his room and he locked the door. I sat trembling, holding myself in fear.

**o 0 O 0 o**

I was crying heavily while he untied my arms, and he didn't care for once. His hands continued to roam my bare body lazily, before finally giving me the pure privilege to dress. I did quickly, trying to ignore the spasms in my body. I felt betrayed by my body, I hated what he did to me yet somewhere deep down, I felt satisfied. I shook the feeling off, trying to persuade myself that it was hormones, or a strange sexual need by my near-adult body.

"I think you've learned your lesson tonight, Prinzessin. And I don't think you'll want to learn it again, because I will teach it to you as many times as needed." I nodded fearfully, barely choking out a 'yes sir' before continuing to shake like a leaf.

"Now go back to your barrack, and you mustn't tell anyone what happens during your little visits to me. Understood Prinzessin?"

"Y-y-yes s-sir," I choked before he roughly helped me stand. This time, I didn't hesitate to run to my barrack, crying the whole way.


	4. A Different Point of View

**Happy New Year you guys! And what better way to celebrate 2010, than with a new chapter? Also, my next new story will be Courtney and Duncan fairytales, and the first fairy tale will be Rapunzel. What I need to know, is if you guys actually want the story, or want the first chapter to be Rapunzel. Let me know in a PM or a review and i'll be sure to listen! Now for some review replies..**

**CarmillaD- Oh, how I love reading your reviews every time I get them. I'm so happy you like this story and that you think it's really good. Stockholm syndrome was one of the options me and my beta came up with when planning this story, but we decided not to do it, due to the ending. But I thin you'll like it either way.  
**

**Maurecia01- Thank you for the idea of making Trent part of this story, but I don't think I will, for a few reasons. One, this story will only contain three TDI characters; Duncan, Courtney, and Heather. I was even very hesitant to put Heather in because the story does not revolve around her, It revolves around Duncan and Courtney. And two, I'm not really sure how to fit that in, and I don't know what the heck he would have to do with this plot line.**

**Well, enjoy Reading!**

I lay awake in my bed for awhile, pondering the events from tonight. I made her feel betrayed, dirty, disgusting. I violated the only thing that was important to her; her purity. Although I hadn't done much to her, I wasn't going to rape her, at least not yet. I couldn't rape her when she was expecting it, where's the true fun in that? I needed to wait until she slipped up, did something wrong. Something that would give me reason to punish her. I lay back into my pillows, smiling at the thought. Yet, my mind came across a different path.

She screamed, begged for me to stop, yet I continued. It felt really good that I had disgraced a filthy Jew and gotten some action in the process, yet I couldn't help but feel bad. I mean, I literally took away her pride, her dignity. Hell, I even took her innocence.

'No, you don't feel bad, she's just a filthy Jew, like the rest of them,' I told myself. I shook my head, trying to clear my disturbing thoughts. I was taught to hate Jews, ever since I was little. They were different from us, and filthy, and deserved to go burn in hell. They were more successful than us, and needed to be brought down before they realized the great power they had over us.

I couldn't help but think, what had they really done wrong? It's not like they conspired against us and planned to kill us off, much like we're doing to them now. Some of them were good people. I saw some of them around the camp, trying to make the best of things and trying hard to live through the tough conditions we gave them. It's a way of life the way we think of them, I concluded doubtfully.

I turned over, trying to get rid of my wandering thoughts. Ugh, stupid jews making me think about them. I think I'll take it out on Prinzessin next time I see her. Today was only her first day, she could be tricked and humiliated easily. Wait until she actually gained some knowledge about this place.

Sick. It was sick. Although I had accumulated a hate towards Jews, and I couldn't stand the lot of them, that didn't necessarily mean they had to die. Sent to work and imprisoned, maybe; but killed? Wasn't that a bit too extreme? I watched babies being used as target practice for the soldiers. I personally gassed bunches little girls like the one that was attached to Prinzessin. I'd torn families apart singlehandedly.

o 0 O 0 o

A day after I had received the news that there would be a commandment the following morning. Thinking about how this would be Prinzessin's first commandment made me smirk. This could be a lot of fun to play around with. Prinzessin didn't know anything about camp life yet, and this would be the perfect opportunity to toy around with her.

What she didn't know, was that the commander wasn't supposed to allow children under the age of fourteen into the camp. So to live up to those expectations they all had to hide from him in the dump. Of course, this was all a joke to us because he knew that they hid there, we all knew. Just another way to make the children's lives miserable. A guilty feeling nagged in the bottom of my stomach but I shrugged it off. If the children didn't make it into the dump in time, they were sent to be gassed, usually being lied to in the process.

I'd seen it happen before, hell I'd done it to kids before. I couldn't do anything about it even though the feeling in my gut nagged at me every time I saw a kid not being able to run fast enough and make it.

This would be the perfect punishment to Prinzessin, even though she didn't deserve it. She hadn't done anything wrong, yet. So when she did, this prank would surely remind her that I was capable of making her life miserable.

The day passed by in bitter, slow agony. Jews tried to rebel, I sent them to be gassed. I caught a man trying to steal food for his wife from the kitchen workers; he begged me to have mercy on him, his wife was expecting and she was starving. Ignoring the irritating feeling in my gut yet again, I hurled him against the wall and stomped on his leg, purposefully breaking it. When the commandment came by tomorrow and saw him in the hospital, they would send him to be gassed along with all the rest who were in the hospital and those who couldn't get out of bed the following morning.

A sharp pain in my stomach told me that this was wrong. I shouldn't do that to a man who was only trying to help his wife. The baby wouldn't live anyways, no matter how much food it got, I told myself glumly. Furthermore, his wife would probably die trying to deliver the baby, or getting sick or some other reason. Some other guard would find her and beat the living shit out of her, killing the baby in the process. I couldn't do anything about it; that was the system, they were the rules I had to obey and follow if I wanted to live myself.

By the time I had finished with dinner and my nightly bottle of beer my stomach was aching real bad; much like every time I did something horrible to a Jew and had the night to ponder on how morally wrong it was. A little while later, Prinzessin came in, making eye contact with me once before looking down on the dirt floor.

"What do you want me to do today?" she asked, biting back tears. "Should I undress for you, sir? Or do you want to do that yourself?" she continued fearfully while the feeling in my stomach deepened, making me wince.

"No, no. Nothing of that sort today. Come sit by me," I ordered calmly, patting the spot next to me on the bed. She came soundlessly, lifting her onyx eyes to meet mine as to not have me yell at her for not looking at me. Without a word I took her face in my hands and slowly scanned it for any signs of sickness. Her skin still had the same tan complexion, not too pale, which was a good sign. Her eyes didn't seem too gaunt, leaving me assured and I let her face go, watching he body relax in the process.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, wanting to further investigate on her well-being.

"In what way, sir?" I raised my eyebrows, wanting to know what she meant by that.

"Explain yourself, Jew."

"How do I feel physically, or emotionally sir," she said with a fearful voice. It hurt a bit to watch how she was so afraid of me because of the previous night. It brought masked and hidden emotions to resurface into my cold shell of a heart. With all my might I pushed those feelings back down and put on the cockiest grin I could muster.

"Surprise me Prinzessin." I watched her face contort into several different emotions; anger, hurt, betrayal, and the list goes on. I stayed silent, watching her fight with her feelings to see which one would upset me the least.

"I'm feeling fine, I don't feel sick sir," she finally said after a few minutes of silence. Her head drooped downwards and the nauseating feeling returned. Damn, why was it rising now of all times? What was so special about her that made me feel like crap for hurting her? Why was she so different from the others? German girls, Jew girls, they were all the same; I hurt, raped and abused both groups.

"Well, Prinzessin, I have some news to tell you." She looked up grimly at me and I scowled, she wasn't supposed to be this upset. I could've raped her. I didn't do anything too bad to her; she was overreacting.

"You're going to rape me? Or how about send me to be killed?"

I growled and smacked her hard across the face without thinking.

"Don't talk to me like that, now sit up straight and don't act all mopey. I know what I did to you last night. Get over it," I spat harshly. She quivered before doing what I said and tried not to seem as upset.

"Tomorrow, you will have your first commandment. The commander will go around and inspect everyone to make sure they aren't sick. Those who are in the hospital and those who can't get out of bed tomorrow, will not continue living here." She merely nodded, and I grinned before continuing.

"The commander is not supposed to allow people under the age of 18 in the camp. This is supposed to be an adults only camp," I lied, watching her slowly go into silent hysterics.

"So this what you have to do. All of the people under the age requirements must go into the dump, so the commandment wont see you. And if I were you, I'd strip of my clothes before going in there. It stinks like shit, and if you go with your clothes, good luck getting the smell out," I concluded, enjoying watching her face fall and harden.

"Alright."

"Now it's time for fun." Her eyes pleaded with me not to do anything, but I ignored her and took her face in my hands and forced her to look into mine. I started to kiss her, and this time I didn't care that she didn't want to kiss back.

o 0 O 0 o

I woke up and stretched out happily, remembering last night's events. Prinzessin was so going to get it today. Watching her be humiliated in front of all her little Jew friends and family would surely be the highlight of the day, I concluded. I rushed past my daily morning routines; hastily cramming down a light breakfast and speeding through my shower.

I lined up with the other German guards when a large white car pulled up. Since I was in charge, I was allowed to go greet the commander. We acquainted with each other briefly before we started the evaluation. He started at the barracks, and we rallied up all those who were sick in bed, thinking if they didn't go to the hospital, they could be saved. Poor, stupid bastards. I gritted my teeth subtly while continuing the evaluation.

As soon as we stepped outside, I heard the clucking-the signal that the commandment was here for the children- and sat back and watched as my plan rolled into action. Kids were already piling into the midden, bright cloths of there clothing on the floor. I started laughing as Prinzessin, surprisingly late on her part, ran to the midden, forgot to strip off her dress and sweater, and jumped into the filth. Tears from laughter were in my eyes as the commandment looked at me then started laughing himself at the sight.

He went on to the hospital while I stayed behind and watched the trouble unfold. The kids started piling out and pulling on their clothes while Prinzessin's friends surrounded the dump, the most concerned being her mother. She tripped while trying to get out of the midden and fell face first into the garbage. I couldn't hold back my laughter as I nearly doubled over in enjoyment. My inner feeling literally smacked me, but this time I ignored it gleefully, watching as her friends tried to help her out and her mother yelled at her for being so stupid as to run into the midden while everyone else was looking for her.

She turned angrily, her dark eyes coming across mine. She took notice of my laughing figure and turned red, clearly embarrassed. Even from the distance I could see her eyes fill with tears as her friends led her away. My stomach sunk and I turned on my heel, a smile no longer gracing my features. I'd hurt her yet again, I told myself glumly as I walked back to my quarters.

o 0 O 0 o

I nervously waited on my bed for Prinzessin to enter. I felt awful; and I couldn't help it, or deny it. As a sort-of apology to her, I acquired a medium-size bucket of water so she could wash out her clothes so they wouldn't stink as bad when she repeatedly came to see me.

The door suddenly opened silently, and she stepped in without a word, looking down at the floor the whole time.

"I took the liberty of getting you a bucket of water so you could wash off your clothes. You stink like shit." She looked up once but she didn't, or question me, or even nod. Her face was smooth, expressionless; not showing any hint that something had extremely humiliated her in the past hour.

"Well? What are you just standing there for? Start undressing Prinzessin, and wash yourself off." Her face turned hard, but she stuck her nose up and crossed her arms across herself.

"I'm not undressing in front of you. You already got a good look this afternoon," she spat. I was about to remark about how I'd already seen everything she had to offer, but a different idea came to mind. "Suit yourself," I said before shoving her down on the floor. She offered little resistance other than a surprised cry. I crossed the room in a single stride, grabbed the bucket filled with cold water and without hesitation dumped it on her while she was looking down on the floor.

I smiled in pleasure as she gasped from the cold water. She looked up slowly, and I anticipated for the yelling she was about to give me, but nothing happened. No angry expression, no words coming out of her mouth, not even a flick of humiliation in her eyes. I sighed, and smacked her across the face to get her to say something.

"Yes sir, did you want something?" I ran a hand down my face and sat on my bed.

"Just leave, now."

o 0 O 0 0

I strolled through the sorting sheds a couple of days later, merely glancing long enough at the hardworking Jews to make sure that they were working and none seemed sick. Once the inspection was finished I stretched and smiled, starting to head towards Prinzessin's work place. I whistled a pointless tune as I walked, occasionally greeted other guards with a sharp nod of my head.

Upon barely entering the kitchen, I saw her. She was hard at work scrubbing the floors by herself; I had seen the others go out to fetch more water. After a few moments, she stopped and rested, rubbing her arms but quickly returning to her work. For some reason, I felt proud of her then for having listened to my warning last time. I smiled in admiration and leaned back in my secluded hiding place.

She was so different from the lot of Jews I'd seen. Most of them complained, and didn't try, and expected to be treated with utmost luxury. Those were the people that went up in the smokestack first. I warned her, and she listened. I told her not to be weak, and she tried to stay strong in public. I told her she was trash, and would not receive any special treatment, and she accepted that fact, and didn't go back on it.

I'd given her the name Prinzessin, due to her proud nature and the stereotype that she was like some of the others; complainers, underachievers and expected everything handed to them on a fucking silver platter. In spite of that typical stereotype, she completely wasn't and she worked hard to prove that to me, when I already knew it. I chuckled softly to myself; some girl she was.

I kept to my hiding spot, just watching her with utmost curiosity. She was a strange little creature; proud and not letting anything get to her one moment, and then the next she's scared shitless and crying her eyes out. That night, after I pulled that prank on her, I felt something strange. I actually let the feeling of guilt succumb me instead of bury itself deep down into the dark corners of my stone heart.

How could she keep being so strong and fearless when all I piled on her was a bunch of crap? I embarrassed her, she didn't care and kept proud. I violated her, she kept on listening and allowed me to keep doing things to her she would've never allowed in her old life. I began to admire her then, she was so unique. So special compared to the different girls. I found myself growing more attached and thinking a lot more about my little Prinzessin.


	5. The First few Deaths are the Hardest

**Hey guys! Sorry about the late update. I'm shooting for a new chapter every week, winter break was the exception to that rule, but now that school is back in session, It'll have to be back to the 'once a week update' from me :(. I honestly didn't think I was going to get this chapter out to you guys today even. I literally just finished this chapter this morning, then hastily sent it to my beta, who by some miracle was able to get it back to me in a matter of hours. Thanks so much to Calamity Now for all her hard work, and just letting you know, she will be helping me with my D/C fairytale story! Woo hoo!!! Okay, now for the anonymous review replies...**

**Anonymous- Ok, I know why it was a bit confusing. Either you misinterpreted it, or it was my error. Duncan was giving Courtney a hand job, that's what happened in chapter 3. Originally, it was written different by my beta, and I changed it so that may have been my fault -_-" So just to make things clear, he didn't rape her, and she's still a virgin. Hope you understand now and sorry for any errors :)**

**Nixie- awwww thanks sooo mucchh!!!!! I wont forget about Kids are a Joy, it's just my other beta doesn't get things back to me as fast, so that story takes a lot more time to update. But when I do update, I come out with a looonng chapter, so that's your reward for waiting :)**

**CarmillaD- I'm not going to give out anymore hints about the ending...cept that it's already written :D So, you'll just have to wait and see what shall become of DUncan and Courtney, but I'm sure you'll love it. Yes, DUncan is a total bitch right now, and karma will get to him...eventually. And Courtney will remain strong, up until the end of the story. Even when she breaks down she's strong, and I really like that about the way I interpret her. And, are you reading my mind? Because that is exactly what I planned to do for the fairytale story. Except, Rapunzel will either have 5, or 6 chapters, I'm not sure just exactly yet, but it's leaning towards 6 :)**

**Enjoy!!!!!**

The daily routines were what I grew accustomed to over the next few weeks. Wake up, roll call, black coffee and hard bread, work, more work, roll call, watery soup and more bread, work, more soup and bread, one hour of evening activity, roll call, Duncan and then to bed. Every few weeks there was a choosing; of course the first one had been a slip-up for me, the second one was definitely a scary one for me. My heart had beat so loudly I was sure everyone in the room had heard it. But when the commandment came, he merely chuckled, pinched my cheek, and kept walking. After that, the commandments just became part of the routine; and it became simple. If one always worked and didn't slack off, didn't work too slowly, said a wrong word at the wrong moment, threaten or talk about the Blokova behind her back, stumble, trip, or fall ill, then the chances were you wouldn't get chosen. This time.

I counted the days as they passed slowly, counting each day that I'd survived in this damned place. My visits with Duncan were growing slightly less forceful and painful. I had just come to accept the fact that no matter how hard I screamed or resisted, nothing would change; he would only inflict more pain on me, and the visits weren't going to stop, so what was the point in struggling anymore? I let him do as he pleased to me, I let him whisper nasty things in my ear, I let him do vile things to me, I let him caress my face and kiss me as he pleased. It scared me how much this damned camp was changing me; I wasn't as resistant or as independent as I used to be, If I was, I would be killed.

I was getting used to the camp work, slowly but steadily. Now we had been given the task of preparing the meals for the day, something I was taking a lot of time getting used to. Fortunately, cleaning the pots and pans along with preparing the meals provided me with the small benefit of being able to scrape out a few morsels of food here and there. I was starving, as usual. The meager portions they served us weren't nearly enough. In just a few weeks I was sure I had lost a couple of pounds; my curvy body had now turned more stick-like, and I wasn't liking that one bit. How much more weight could I lose before I would turn sick from malnutrition? I wiped my slightly runny nose discreetly, shuddering at the slight draft that had come in from the kitchen doors.

Eliana came in carrying a large bucket of potatoes, assisted by the two other girls. I had begun to despise them secretly. They were nothing but trouble, always complaining silently, and blaming everyone but themselves. They would be chosen soon, if not next. Biting a lip, I cringed at my bluntness at the fact that two girls would be killed off just because they couldn't work. What has this place turned me into? I used to be one of those girls! Luckily I had Duncan, who warned me on account of my behavior, but these girls weren't as lucky.

"C'mon Courtney, I'm going to teach you how to prepare the soup. You have to learn before the next commandment or...well you know," Eliana spoke, causing me to snap out of my reverie. She certainly was right, and I followed her to the counter, pushing back the sleeves of my sweater. She pointed to the potato with her peeler, and demonstrated how to peel it. I followed suite, having some difficulty with peeling the potato in straight lines, but I managed. Or so I thought.

"Courtney! Watch out there, you almost cut yourself!" Eliana warned rather loudly, causing her baby to stir and start to squirm. I cringed when he bellowed a loud wail, and I joined in helping Eliana try to quiet him down. No one could tell what those German bastards would do if they heard him.

"Shh, Shh, Shh," I whispered frantically, while Eliana bounced him up and down rather hastily. Our desperate attempts to quiet him down didn't help, in fact he wailed even louder.

"Make that damn baby shut up already! He's going to get us in trouble!" One of the girls yelled, looking panicked and covering her ears from the noise. I pointed to our desperate attempts to signal that we were trying the best we could. Everyone froze and turned silent--except for the wailing baby of course--when a guard burst through the door, demanding to know what was making all the noise. He spotted the howling infant, and barked something in german, which no one in the room understood.

"Get that Scheib to shut the fuck up, or you will all pay!" he barked, causing Eliana and me to try even harder to get him to get quieter. I tried humming a song that mama used to sing to me back in the shtetle, but no avail. Without warning, the guard tore the bawling infant from Eliana's arms, threw him against the wall and Eliana screamed. I could do nothing but become paralyzed in horror in what was to happen next. I wanted to close my eyes, anything to escape this damned situation. They wouldn't kill a baby on purpose, I tried to assure myself. There would be no reason to, all babies cried, there was nothing one could do about it. I repeated these thoughts over and over in my head as Eliana began to bawl herself, and I forced my body to move and wrap my arms around her quivering frame. The guard smiled mockingly and bitterly, taking his gun out of his holster and holding it to the howling infant. Eliana screamed again, and I covered her mouth with my hand in order to stifle it; she shouldn't get in trouble herself.

"This will show you hundins, everyone must follow directions. Those who don't, end up dead," the guard spoke and Eliana sobbed harder in my arms while I rubbed her back comfortingly, biting my lip as to not cry myself. The guard raised his gun to her baby and with a loud bang and a blood-curdling scream from Eliana, he lay silent, dead. Not able to help it anymore, I began to cry too, shocked that the sweet little angel was now dead. Sure, I had thought that he was an impure mistake before, but he was just a baby. He could've turned out like his mother, not his father. Eliana rushed forward to her poor child and cradled him in her arms, sobbing over his unfortunate death. I followed soon after, both of us ignoring that the guard was still there.

He brought out a whistle, and blew in it, causing a loud shrill to fill the camp. Within seconds, a giant group of men wearing gray overalls, tore the dead baby from her arms and ran off. I covered Eliana's mouth in case she screamed again, but she remained sobbing, harder even.

"Now, proceed with your work." The guard left as abruptly as he came in, and I was left scarred with my first experience of an unnecessary murder.

**o 0 O 0 o**

I walked into Duncan's quarters slowly, hesitant to make even the smallest sound. The incident from before left me nearly traumatized, and that was nothing compared to Eliana. Poor thing wouldn't eat anything all day. She stopped crying and except for work she wasn't doing anything. She wasn't talking, barely moving and her eyes were wide and full of fear. When we retreated into our barrack after dinner, she silently crawled onto her shelf, not making any sound except for some small whimpers; we left her alone, not wishing to disturb her in her mourning. I had similarly adapted her mood, not necessarily wishing to speak to anybody after what I'd just witnessed. The little angel's death had proved to me that I couldn't trust anyone in this camp. They would kill anybody for the littlest reason. The mere thought made my stomach quake uneasily; I had to take working hard to the next step.

Duncan looked up casually at my entrance, noticing my slightly shaking figure and my wide, presumably terrified eyes. He beckoned me forward, and made me sit on his lap. I was so scared, I immediately complied without a sound of complaint. He took my face in his strong, calloused hands and caressed it gently, examining it.

"What happened?" he finally asked after the longest time. I shook my head and simply replied, "nothing sir." He didn't buy it and forced me to look in his eyes, making me quiver even harder. There was just something about his eyes that strangely attracted me so, yet scared me shitless all the while. At the moment, I was so scared, I didn't even bother to deny that I was selfishly attracted to his eyes.

"Clearly something's wrong, you're shaking like a leaf. Did you get in trouble? Are you feeling ill?" I shook my head 'no' again, taking a shaky breath while he released my face and let me get off his lap to get me to answer.

"Eliana's baby...he....he was killed today. By a soldier. Just for crying...it was so awful Duncan...just so awful," I whimpered, beginning to let loose a few tears from the awful memory and earning myself a disapproving look from Duncan. His hand grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes again.

"This happens. Get used to it. Babies never make it in these camps anyways. It was better that it died like this, than be starved and miserable. And who knows, it's mother could've died before him, then you could've ended up taking care of him! How about that?" I tried to turn my head away but his thumb and index finger kept me firmly in place.

"I wouldn't have minded. Eliana's my friend and her baby was like my own son too. How can you talk so...so indifferently about a poor, innocent baby like that? And the baby is a he, not an _it_," I spat, speaking up for myself for the first time in weeks.

For once, Duncan didn't smack me, he merely shrugged and lay back further in his bed.

"I told you, _it_ wouldn't have survived anyway. This was probably the best way for him to go." I stuck my nose up defiantly, pissed that he was taking the subject matter so lightly. He pat his lap again, beckoning me to sit back on it and to begin the mental torture. I shook my head, my body tensing automatically. He growled slightly, amused with my resistance.

"Ooh, feisty today aren't we? You better get over this little death immediately, otherwise, I will punish you. Now, be a good little hure and come sit in my lap."

"Yes sir."

And so the torturing began.

**o 0 O 0 o**

A week had passed since the unnecessary death of Eliana's son. She hadn't been able to figure out a name for him up to the point; she had said that all the names seemed plain and typical and she needed something special for her baby boy. But now, she had figured it out; the perfect name. Malach. Angel. We had ll cried when she quietly said his name. Eliana still remained solemn, and we let her stay that way, only making sure that she was eating and working. Unfortunately, today was a commandment day, and we were all expected to be on our best behavior.

I was out fetching water for the kitchen when I saw the car pull up. If it were any other circumstance I would have spat on the ground, instead I put my hands around my mouth, beginning to cluck my tongue. I saw the children immediately begin to rush to the midden; alerted from everywhere, they came scrambling towards the midden, stripping of their clothes, and hopping in the filth. I cringed, remembering the disgusting feeling of wading in the slimy garbage.

I watched cautiously, amazed at their ability and speed. The first two in were a pair of twins, shucking off their flimsy shoes and stripping off their dresses and sweaters. On and on they piled until they all settled into the midden, silent. The commander stepped out of his car slowly while I began to fill the bucket, looking for something to do as to seem busy and not useless; otherwise I could be chosen. He began at a barrack next to ours and stepped inside, walking out a few minutes later, his clipboard already holding numerous numbers. I bowed my head, feeling pity for the poor people who couldn't get out of bed today. Suddenly, the door to our barrack flung open, and out came a smiling Rivkah, skipping. When she saw me there she began to run to me, and I dropped the bucket, water spilling everywhere.

"Coouurtney! I'm bored!" she whined in a sing-song voice. I tried pushing her towards the midden but she wouldn't budge. The commander was coming closer.

"Rivkah, please. Run to the midden, hide, please darling please."

She stubbornly remained where she was and didn't budge while I began to cry, very much frightened of what was to happen.

"I don't like the dump! it made my clothes smell yucky! Besides, there's no point. Play with me Courtney, play with me! I'm bored," she complained while I looked to the sky as a sign of prayer.

"Please, listen to me RIvkah, please hide in the midden, please baby please, I'll play with you after-"

"What do we have here?" asked a sweet voice and I froze. There was the commander, less than a foot away. I held the poor child in my arms, my hand stroking her now-pale face. "Gottenyu," I whispered to myself, fat tears rolling down as I knew what would happen. He kneeled down, crouching to Rivkah's level, who began to tremble in my weak arms. He outstretched his hand to her, and she hesitantly took it, while I sucked my teeth, not being able to close my eyes this time.

"I heard you complaining my dear child. Are you bored here? Do you want to play, my sweet?" he asked, his voice deadly soft. I was unable to breath as she nodded her head enthusiastically.

"You don't like the midden do you child?" She shook her head no and he continued. "Well then, I'll personally make sure that you'll never have to go in there ever again. Let's go play." He took her hand and stood up, beginning to lead her away. I held onto her tight, refusing to let her go, despite of the trouble I would get in. I would take her place, I would personally die for her. Anything than taking the life out of her blue eyes.

"Are you her mother?" he asked me while I numbly shook my head 'no'. "Aunt? Sister? Cousin?" he asked again, while I answered 'no' to each one of the titles.

"That is good, for you." He made a motion, and without taking another breath a guard came swiftly behind me and bound me to him, binding my arms against his lank body.The guard was unrecognizable; different, new perhaps. This guard smelled like garbage and his breath ranked heavily of beer. He wouldn't last long, I concluded. A drunk guard was no guard at all.

I screamed, and he retaliated by putting his filthy hand over my mouth. I began to sob as the commander picked RIvkah up and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

"Don't worry Courtney, I'm just going to play! I'll be right back. Tell mommy I love her!" she assured me excitedly. How little did she know. I screamed harder as the bastard put the poor child in his car and they drove off. The guard finally let my body go, but soon grabbed hold of my wrist, dragging me towards a secluded, dark section of the camp. A crate was set up, and he barked something in German, which I couldn't understand.

"Strip off your clothes. Schnell." Not wanting to get in anymore trouble, I stripped off of all my clothes, and looked hesitantly at the crate.

"Lie down on it. On your stomach," he barked at me, while I forced myself to obey his orders. I lay down on the splintery wood shakily, my body still quivering from my heavy sobs. The wood pinched into my stomach, and I was sure there were slivers of wood already forcing themselves into my stomach. I bit my lip in pain, wondering what was going to happen.

"This will teach you, filthy Jew, to obey orders and not to rebel. Now count." I shakily sobbed out a 'one', and before I could even begin to comprehend what on earth he was trying to do to me, the furious lash of the heavy whip bit down into my sensitive back. I cried out while he yelled at me to keep counting. I shook my head no, sobbing harder, and he thrust the whip upon me again, even harder. I was forced to count out the number of whips he gave me, and every time I screwed up, he started over. Each lash was harder and more painful than the last, and I couldn't keep from crying out. I fought with all my might as to not pass out, and give him the opportunity to kill me.

By the time he was finished, my back was numb, and I was sure it was bleeding and welted. It had gone on until I could count to twenty-five lashes, which was quite awhile. I was pretty sure I had gone through fifty whips instead of twenty-five. He left abruptly, and I struggled to even sit up; I was in terrible condition. My back was bloody and welted, and my stomach was filled with splinters. Yet, somehow, I forced myself to get up and put my clothes on. It was pure agonistic torture. My clothes adhered to my wounds, and every step I took felt like I was being stabbed numerous times.

Tears continued to roll down my cheeks as I began to here Rivkah's soft words in my head; repeating themselves over and over again.

_"Play with me Courtney, play with me!"_

Oh how I wished I could. By this time, she was probably already dead. I wished she would've listened to me, I wish she would've run. It was my fault, all my fault. If I had just carried her there myself, she would've still been alive. If I had persuaded her harder, I would be playing with her right now. The last innocent child I knew...was dead. She was like a daughter to me, and now she was dead. I began to sob all over again as I forced myself to continue to walk to the barracks.

**o 0 O 0 o**

"Has anyone seen my baby!? Has anyone seen my little Rivkah?!" Leah called out, panic ensuing in her voice as she entered the barrack.

I sobbed harder on my shelf as mama rocked me back and forth. Everyone was crying, not being able to believe that the sweetest child in the world was now ashes. Not even. She was shmatte now...drek...I didn't want to know what they did to her. Leah came over to me, holding my hand in hers, looking at me worriedly.

"Courtney, we are like sisters. Rivkah was like your own daughter. Tell me what has happened to her." I bit my lip so hard, blood drew out as I tried wiping away my tears to tell the unfortunate mother what had happened.

"She...she...she wouldn't run into the m-m-midden. The c-commandment ...he came...he took her a-a-a-away!" I began to bawl again, like a little child, and mama continued to stroke my scalp as the mother right next to me soaked in the news.

"She...she's dead? He took her to be killed?"

I couldn't do anything but cry harder and nod, while the mother next to me began to cry too.

"I tried Leah....I tried to help her...she wouldn't listen...I t-tried to keep her with me...I got whipped for it." To prove it mama raised just a bit of my dress that was plastered to my bloody, welted skin. Everyone who hadn't known gasped, and offered more comfort. I didn't want comfort, I wanted Rivkah back...I wanted my little shadow back.

"I can't believe it...my little baby is gone..."

With that said, Leah began to go into hysterics, and all the women moved from comforting me, to comforting the poor mother.

Before anyone could say anything more, a guard walked in and said my number. I couldn't believe I still had to go to see Duncan today...it wasn't fair...it wasn't fair. I wasn't in any condition to do anything. But I held my head down, and bit down on my lip as to not utter any more sobs. I forcefully picked myself up and with much vehemence, walked the short way to Duncan's place.

I couldn't bear to look at his face, presumably filled with disparagement. I kept my head down, and only after uttering a low hiss at the motion of sitting, I sat down on his bed.

"Strip off your clothes, Prinzessin."

I didn't think I was able to take off my clothes, let alone him touching me in vile ways that would surely make make my back fester, and it would definitely make my injuries worse.

"I..I can't sir.."

"Just do it Prinzessin. And lay down on the bed, face-down." This demand sounded too familiar for comfort, and I didn't like it one bit; but I had to. I slowly stripped off my sticky dress, sweater and undergarments, and lay down on the bed, face-down. I heard Duncan let out a low whistle at the sight of my welts.

"Well, well, well. What has Prinzessin gotten herself into this time?" I bit my lip as his hands gently grazed my back as to not cry out. Yet, that tactic failed when his finger traced over a certain one and I cried out in agony and began to cry softly.

"Shh...be quiet. I'm trying to help for once." Suddenly his fingers felt cold as they gently brushed my back. It took me awhile to figure out what he was doing; he was applying medication. Why was he doing this? I thought he hated me. Yet, I brushed that aside as I was thankful that he was doing this for me. Minutes passed in total silence as he mended my back. After he'd bandaged it to the point where my back wasn't seething in pain anymore, he began to run his fingers over my non welted part.

"There we go, any more casualties?" I nodded slightly, turning over and pointing to my splintered stomach. He handed me my sweater so I could cover my breasts while he tended to my stomach. It hurt, a lot, and I cried out multiple times. He shushed me, every time, but it wasn't as harsh, more desperate.

"Why are you doing this? You hate me, I'm a filthy Jew. You like to make me suffer." He looked up at me once, while continuing to pluck the splinters from my stomach. He took his damn sweet time before answering, and just when I was worried that he wasn't going to give me any answer at all, he sighed and ran a hand over his buzzed head.

"The welts could get infected. You could get sick. I told you, you get sick, you die," he answered bluntly, but his down-cast eyes told me otherwise. How he had confused me so. The rest of the time was in complete ear-deafening silence. Finally, after the longest damned time, he put out a hand to help me sit up, and I took it gratefully.

"Now, what happened? Did another baby die?" he asked mockingly, and my eyes looked down onto the dark floor. I pulled my clothes on slowly, trying to hold the tears in.

"No. Not a baby."

"Then who?"

"Rivkah."

"You mean that little girl who always followed you around? How did she...." he trailed off, remembering that today was the commandment. Tears began to trail down my cheeks again at the awful memory.

"She..she wouldn't go into the midden...she wanted me to play with her...the commander..he took her...he was sweet to her...and he lied to her," I said the last part with as much venom that I could muster. He touched my cheek softly, then backed off and took his hand off my face.

"Sometimes...it's best that one is killed while lied to. She was happy. She could have died, unhappy, miserable, starved. She was still filled, still happy. She had all her family with her."

I shook my head, not believing anything he said would make me feel better. She didn't need to die, and it was all my fault.

"It was all my fault, I should've carried her to the midden myself. I should've hidden her." He stuck his thumb under my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"There was absolutely nothing you could've done. You would've been dead too." I shook my head, not wanting to believe the rubbish he told me.

"I think you were traumatized enough for one day, go to sleep, you'll need it." I nodded and gathered the rest of my clothes off the floor and pulled them on. Duncan forced his lips onto mine--his new habit, always taking place when I came in, and right before I left-- and let me go.

"Sweet resting, Prinzessin."


	6. Verrrryy very important authors note

**Okay, I'm really sorry for putting in a author-note chapter, but I felt that I owed you guys some explanation. I'm honestly very sorry that I haven't updated in....forever. hahaha. But expect a true update this weekend. It started out with exams, then my boyfriend dumped me, then the new quarter started, then major writers block kicked in. And once I actually had started to write, it took about a month for Calamity Now to get back to me. But the chapter still wasn't finished. So I've sent her what I had again, over three weeks ago, but I don't think it's right to keep you guys waiting anymore. So, after a lot of speculation, and consultation with my friend Sarah, I've come up with a different tactic. I've printed out the chapter for myself, and edited it myself. Then, I gave it to Sarah, who also edited it for me. She's giving it to me tomorrow. If nothing goes wrong, and everything goes as planned, I will make the changes this weekend, finish writing, and have it updated. Sound good? Thanks for all of you and your support.**

**In the meantime; I have a new poll on my profile for my upcoming story. And, I'm working on a collboration with broadwaychick09. It's one of those 'fill in the application' type of stories, but it's going to be amazing. Apps are still open, so get your asses over there and fill them out!!! hahahhahah. It's on her profile if you're interested.**

**Okay, so here's a little preview, and I hope to get it to you by this weekend.**

**Ttfn,**

**edwardandbella4evah**

I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming my heart out. _Not again_... I chastised myself and ran a hand through what hair had grown back. The usual nightmare about Rivkah had again chosen to haunt my dreams. She called out for me to save her, I recalled. She begged for me to hide her; but I was frozen -- paralyzed in fear at the guard who held a gun behind her; Duncan. Before I could utter out a single sound he shot her, then advanced to me where he proceeded to kill me, the cruel smirk I knew so well casually played on his lips.

It had been two months since her cruel death, yet it still haunted me to no end. And yet again, what I was experiencing was nothing compared to Eliana and Leah, poor souls. I didn't know how much more Eliana could take; first her son, then her littlest sister, who was to be next?

I pushed my hair out of my damp face and inhaled deeply. Almost three months I'd survived in this place; it wasn't easy. The constant adrenaline and worry when the commandment came (I hated him now with all my heart for killing poor Rivkah), the lack of proper food, the cold, the bitterness of the Blokova.

Yet strangely, Duncan wasn't on that list of things I could barely survive in the camp.

Duncan had begun to become more tolerable ever since the day he had patched me up from the whips--the scaring was minimal thanks to that. He hadn't touched me in a too vile way since that day he'd entered inside of me. The kissing and slight touching was still happening, but I got used to it, and accepted it as a fact of life. I knew more about him now and he knew more about me; nightly conversations were a common thing. Last night, he told me about his family for once.

**o 0 O 0 o**

"_What are we going to talk about tonight, sir?" I asked expectingly, looking forward to what story I would be sharing with him this time. It took my mind off the horrors in the camp. He merely chuckled and brought his lips to my forehead, kissing the spot gently as if a husband might do to his wife. It made me a bissel uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do about it. _

"_Come, Prinzessin, sit on my lap and I shall tell you a story about my past tonight. A reward for being such a good little ente for so long." I hesitantly did as he asked, and he wrapped his arms around my now-tiny and bony waist._

"_What are you going to tell me, sir?"_

"_Don't call me sir," he demanded sharply. "From now on just address me by my name." _

"_As you wish, Duncan."_

"_I want to tell you a little bit about myself. I don't think it's fair that I know so much about you, yet you know almost nothing about me, eh Prinzessin?" _


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, told you I would update. :) I'd like to thank all of my readers and reviewers for sticking with me for so long while I kept you waiting. I hope this chapter is to your liking, I worked really, really hard on it. I'd like to thank my dear friend Sarah for helping me with the editing and for always being there when I need some help on this story. I'd also like to thank my friend Hala for being there for me and offering support too. And of course, to hear me ramble about what happens in the story ;). While I'm at it, i'll thank Antonio the afro dude, just cuz he wanted to be mentioned even though he did nothing :D. I really hope you guys like this chapter, and the next one will be tough to put out without Calamity Now, so wish me, Sarah, and Hala good luck :)**

**Right now, I would usually respond to the reviewers' reviews, but I think I tackled them down one by one in PMs. If not, then I'll have to do it in the next chapter. **

**Oh, and if you end up reading this Calamity Now, I'd like to say I'm sorry, and I hope this chapter is to your liking too. I really tried my best to make sure to eliminate grammar errors, awkward wording, unnecessary words, and plot errors too. I'm sorry if they're not all gone; Sarah and I tried our best.**

"_You never got to finish telling me about Chaya, Courtney!" Rivkah exclaimed, grabbing my hand and giggling. I picked her up merrily and brushed back the curls from her face, making her giggle even harder. I planted a chaste kiss on her brow and fiddled with the ribbon in her hair, making sure it was perfectly straight. An angel like her had to look perfect, I was convinced._

"_I know, and I'm very sorry. Would you like me to continue?"_

"_Oh yes please!" she declared, clapping her hands in joy. I smiled and was about to continue the story, when I noticed our surrounding was beginning to turn gray and foggy, the weather dropping about forty degrees; almost as cold as it was in the camp. My hold around the child had become tighter and much more protective._

"_Stay still," I warned. "And don't make a single sound." I heard whispers and haunting noises, calling out for Rivkah. I wouldn't let them take her away from me, not again._

"_Courtney," she whimpered, her grip around my neck slipping. I tried to catch her, but her skin felt like oil and gas combined; she slipped out of my hold every single time._

"_Riiivkkaaahhh...." the voice moaned._

o 0 O 0 o

I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming my heart out.

Not again... I chastised myself and ran a hand through what hair had grown back. The usual nightmare about Rivkah had, once again, chosen to haunt my dreams. She called out for me to save her, I recalled. She begged for me to hide her; but I was frozen--paralyzed in fear by the guard who held a gun behind her. But the guard was Duncan. Before I could utter out a single sound he shot her, then advanced towards me where he proceeded to kill me, the cruel smirk I knew too well casually played on his lips.

It had been two months since her cruel death, yet it still haunted me to no end. And yet again, what I was experiencing was nothing compared to Eliana and Leah, the poor souls. I didn't know how much more Eliana could take; first her son, then her littlest sister, who was next?

I pushed my sparse hair out of my damp face and inhaled deeply. Almost three months and I've still survived this place; it wasn't easy. The constant adrenaline and worry when the commandment came (I hated him now with all my heart for killing poor Rivkah), the lack of proper food, the cold, the bitterness of the Blokova.

Yet, strangely, Duncan wasn't on that list of things I could barely survive in the camp.

Duncan had begun to become more tolerable ever since the day he had patched me up from the whips--the scaring was minimal thanks to that. He hadn't touched me in a too vile way since that day he'd entered inside of me. The kissing and slight touching was still happening, but I got used to it, and accepted it as a fact of life. I knew more about him now and he knew more about me; nightly conversations were a common thing. Last night, he told me about his family for once.

o 0 O 0 o

"What are we going to talk about tonight, sir?" I asked expectingly, looking forward to what story I would be sharing with him this time. It took my mind off the horrors in the camp. He merely chuckled and brought his lips to my forehead, kissing the spot gently as if a husband might do to his wife. It made me a bissel uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Come, Prinzessin, sit on my lap and I shall tell you a story about my past tonight. A reward for being such a good little ente for so long." I hesitantly did as he asked, and he wrapped his arms around my now-tiny and bony waist.

"What are you going to tell me, sir?"

"Don't call me sir," he demanded sharply. "From now on just address me by my name."

"As you wish, Duncan," I obeyed immediately, not daring to defy him. Did it mean something that I was only calling him by his first name now? Did he actually see me as something other than trash? Would he be on my side? Would he help me?

As if someone had slapped me, I came back to reality and common sense quickly. Of course he wouldn't. He's the head of the guard, I reminded myself; he'd be the least likely to be on my side.

"I want to tell you a little bit about myself. I don't think it's fair that I know so much about you, yet you know practically nothing about me, eh Prinzessin?" He chuckled and I could only nod, unsure of what to say with this situation.

"My parents were childhood sweethearts; their families were very close," he began rather softly, as if it were a happy memory. I remained quiet and let this unseen side of him sink in; I didn't know when, or if I'd see it again.

"They grew up together, and they loved each other very much. My father was crazy over my mother." He faltered there, hesitating for a few moments before continuing. "You'd think that they would've married out of love and all that. But that wasn't the case at all. My mother got pregnant with me when she was eighteen; my father nineteen. My father wasn't ready; he was too young. He didn't know if he was able to be a father." He mumbled something unintelligible in german and spat on the floor, his arms around me growing tighter. I whimpered slightly, his hold on me had been tight enough as it is, and it didn't need any more force. He heard the small noise, and softened his hold a bit; slightly shocking me. What was next, an apology?

"My mother wanted me, she didn't care of the age, and my father would've let hell freeze over before denying my mother or making her unhappy. So they married out of wedlock soon after. We were a mostly happy family; my mother adored me, and my father did whatever it took to make my mother happy. If it meant liking me, then so be it. My mother taught me everything. How to talk, how to walk, everything from learning to read, to how to uphold a house. I loved her dearly," he sighed, making a small hum of pleasure at the assumedly happy memories that were apparently flashing through his head.

"My father was never around. He was usually out working, but mainly out drinking with his friends. He didn't get involved in domestic matters; raising me was one of them. I'd always thought that he'd hated me, maybe that was why he wouldn't come home before midnight, or why he wouldn't praise me, or offer me any words of advice or pride. For the meantime, I ignored it, because I had my mother around," his tone had seemed cold throughout the mention of his father, and I couldn't help but wonder if maybe his father's attitude to him had influenced his behavior now at all.

"My mom was so pleased with me, she longed to have another child; this time, she wanted a girl. My father gave her what she wanted; she'd become pregnant within three weeks of her request to have another child. She'd suffered throughout the pregnancy, I know that now, though she tried not to show it. She had wanted my life to remain an untroubled little bubble." He paused there, and took a few deep breaths to control himself. Minutes passed and he seemed to be finished with his encounter. I wasn't having any of it; not when the story was becoming so interesting.

"Go on," I encouraged. "Tell me what happened next." Instead of snapping at me like I'd expected, he exhaled deeply and continued.

"She died giving birth to her daughter. She tried to hold on as long as she could, but she could only survive an hour after delivering it. My father was at her side all the while, begging her to continue to live on, but she wouldn't listen. She insisted that my father kept her daughter living as her dying wish. I cried, I pleaded with her not to speak such nonsense and to rest a little so she could get better. She wouldn't listen to me either. Her final words were toward me, and toward the infant. She told me she loved me, and she said that the infant's name was to be Angelika. Then she just..died," his voice slightly cracked then, but he brushed it off and continued.

"While I cried, and pleaded with her to wake up, my father picked up Angelika. Turns out, she'd died too. Since then, my father turned to stone. He blamed me for my mother's death. He'd said that of it weren't for me, she would've never wanted a second child, and she'd still be here. And for the longest time, I'd believed him. I tried making it up to him by being the best son I could be; I got beyond perfect marks in school, I was always on time when I came home from school, and I'd never stepped an inch out of line. But none of that was good enough. It seemed as if I could never please him." I grew to pity him then; I'd never known what it was like not to have a loving father and mother. My father had adored me, he doted on me, and I loved him dearly. Sure, he'd died, but I still had my mother, and the wonderful memories of him.

"To please him further, I volunteered to join the army. He'd always shown some admiration towards those types of men; and he'd subtly hinted how he wanted me to join. The day I told him, he said he was proud of me. I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to tell him how much I fucking hated him; but I didn't. I only worked harder, craving to hear how proud of me he was of me again. I became commander, and then I was sent here; helping to kill Jews." I flinched, and he chuckled bitterly.

"You know what the most ironic thing was? My mother was half jewish. My father would have none of it, and refused to let me inherit any part of the religion. That was my mother's only flaw. I believe that's why he was so proud of me." I wanted to kill him then. His mother, who he loved so dearly and missed so greatly, was half jewish, yet he enjoyed killing them off?! Couldn't he see his mother looking down at him with disparagement, cursing him for doing this to her own kind? I knew that my papa was constantly looking down at me, scolding me when I did something wrong.

"So there's my little story for the Prinzessin who's been so quiet all evening. I miss your little chitter-chatter, tell me a story now." He let go of me and I glared at him icily.

"What do you wish to know?" I asked bitterly. He seemed confused and raised a hand to my jaw, cupping it tightly and pulling it towards him with slight force.

"What? Why do you answer me so coldly?"

"How can you kill jews so easily when your mother was half-jewish herself?! Don't you have any pride? Any shame? Don't you see your mother looking down at you and scolding you for all the evil things you do?" He only chuckled and leaned back on his bed.

"Some questions are better left unanswered, Prinzessin."

o 0 O 0 o

Ever since then, those unanswered questions buzzed around through my swollen mind enough to make my head ache. I turned over on my shelf and shut my eyes forcefully; no sleep wasn't going to work well with the upcoming labor that I was expected to do tomorrow.

I counted to one-hundred in hebrew to keep my mind off of the previous night, and felt myself slowly drift off to sleep.

o 0 O 0 o

Having an empty mind helped me endure each and every day that I had survived in the camp. Even with the most simple tasks an empty mind was necessary. Otherwise my mind would be buzzing with Duncan; that wasn't very good now was it? What if I had gotten off task? Some guard would be sure to see me and take me to be killed; there was no doubt of that, and I wasn't about to start taking risks. Not when I was doing so well.

With the intention of having nothing except my current task in mind, I walked towards the water pump; the girls had sent me to fetch water in order to prepare the supper. Using my hard earned strength--over two months of washing dishes, lifting heavy buckets of water, and washing floors could do a lot on a girl's strength-- I pumped the handle and watched as the water began to slowly fill the bucket. I was so entranced and focused on doing my job, I didn't notice the other presence creeping up next to me; not to mention, a male presence. With the exception of Duncan and the other male guards, I hadn't seen a single man in our area of the camp.

"Working hard there, eh Babushka?" The voice asked, startling me. I found myself turning to face this stranger, hands on my hips and eyebrows raised in annoyance. How dare he disturb me from my task; for all I know he could be a trap. A guard could have sent him to check on me, and if I made one mistake with this encounter I would end up cremated.

"Slicha?" I questioned, in flawless hebrew; mama had really rubbed off on my usage of the language. He merely laughed and fingered my kerchief, I was too stunned by this man touching me in such a gentle way--a way that a husband would usually touch his wife--that I remained frozen and didn't move to stop him.

"Your kerchief in your hair, it makes you look like a little Babushka," he explained merrily. The fact that he didn't seem anything like a trap, and that he was taking interest in me made something inside me falter and flutter; I couldn't help but giggle

"Care telling me what your name is, Babushka?" The new nickname was refreshing;

Prinzessin was all I'd been hearing lately. The way that Duncan called me

Prinzessin was always mocking, or demanding something degrading of me. In fact, even the nickname was degrading. But the way that this man was calling me Babushka, and using it in a slightly teasing, yet mostly caring and gentle way, it made me take more interest in him.

"My name's J17492," I replied meekly, knowing that since he was a jew too, he would understand. Only he didn't. He shook his head at me and leaned against the water pump in an almost lazy manner. I could've killed him then. Did he have a death wish? Didn't he know that one slip up, one small mistake could get you killed in here? I cautiously looked around for any sight of a guard, or someone to catch this and punish us both; but there weren't any. I breathed a sigh of relief and gained my composure.

"Courtney. Courtney Esther Politzer." He smiled and looked up at the sky, enjoying the rare sun. I was left speechless as the sun illuminated his features and made him glow. He seemed perfect, like an angel.

"And yours?" I managed to ask after a few seconds of pure admiration. He grinned a yellow, crooked smile and stood.

"Yaacov. Yaacov Heisen." I smiled, grabbing the since long filled bucket and started to head back to the kitchens. Before I could take ten steps he pulled my arm back and almost made me spill the water.

"Wait. Will I ever see you again?" I could only smile and shrug, starting to walk again. I urged myself to play it calm, instead of the sputtering, sweaty fool I was sure I was acting on the inside.

"Meet me by the midden during free hour. Please, and I promise I'll show you a good time in this godforsaken place." The feeling of his hand on my arm caught me off guard for a few moments. I stopped to consider. I really wanted to, but what if we were to get caught? Then what? But against all odds, I decided to go for it. A jewish man would be certainly refreshing around here; certainly refreshing to me, at least. I nodded enthusiastically, and he took my hand and kissed it tenderly, causing me to blush and giggle again.

"Until then, Babushka." I giggled once more and began to walk again; for the first time in a while, my mind buzzing with excitement.

o 0 O 0 o

I stood, shivering, next to the midden, craning my head every few moments to see if Yaacov's head would pop around the corner. I'd attempted to make myself seem as attractive as possible for our meeting; letting mama fix my hair up, using one of the girls' 'borrowed' lipstick from the sorting shed, even straightening out my dress some. I had to admit, I was excited. I hadn't felt this way about a man since, well, I don't think there ever was a time where I'd felt this way about a man.

I let out a shaky breath and rubbed my near-frozen bare arms; this was the consequence for not wearing my jacket as an attempt to look more attractive. Now I really regretted not bringing it out with me. Not only because I was freezing, but also because I was worried if I was coming on too strong. I'd just met the guy a mere few hours ago, and now I was sacrificing my health, my sanity, and the possibility of my life just to look attractive in front of him.

I hummed a sound of disapproval and shook my head, inwardly scolding myself for being so foolish. If he had really wanted to be with me, he would've showed up on time. I shook my head sadly again, and turned, about to walk back into the slightly warmer barracks. Before a single step was taken, a pair of arms grabbed my waist from behind and clutched it tightly. I tried to scream, but a gloved hand clasped over my mouth before I could.

I knew this would happen, I knew I would get caught. Why, oh why didn't I listen to my conscience? I shivered, and whimpered slightly, tears already building up in my burning eyes.

"Are you ready to meet your doom, Courtney?" I shivered again, about to plead my case, when my mind snapped to full attention. Did he just say 'Courtney'? No real guard would call me by my name, and the voice sounded quite familiar too. Slowly, I managed to turn around, and slap my offender straight in the face. The response was a low chuckle.

"Yaacov Heisen you nearly scared me out of my wits!" He only chuckled again and leaned back against the filthy midden.

"Don't act like it wasn't funny, because it was." I pretended to seethe on the outside, but on the inside I was deeply amazed. It took guts to do that, and not many had what it took to pull that kind of a prank around here. A sense of admiration shone

"That wasn't funny, you really scared me. One shouldn't play jokes around here," I scolded him. Instead of apologizing he slid down the midden to sit on the ground, patting the seat next to him.

"And why not?" My mouth dropped; the answer was so obvious. Did he not realize that he would be murdered faster than one could blink?

"Because! You could be killed! One must always know that and keep that in mind."

"Any more rules I should know about?"

"Glad that you're finally taking interest. You should always focus on what you're doing. Don't let your mind wander. Don't speak back to any higher form of authority. Here, that's everybody who isn't a jew. Don't ever be caught not working. And-" I was interrupted by Yaacov holding my lips together so I was now unable to speak. He moved forward and I began to panic. Was he going to kiss me? I didn't know him all that well; I'd just met him hours before. I didn't want it to happen like this. My expectations were let down though, because he chuckled and moved his hand away.

"You have too many rules, Babushka." I blushed; glad that the dark of the beginning of night could hide it.

"How can you be so cheerful in this place and joke around?" I asked, a question that had truly been eating at my mind since our first encounter. How could he stand to be so merry and jolly when death was right around the corner? People were being killed, tortured, hurt (both emotionally and physically) by the minute, and he could still laugh, and smile? Something had to be eating away at his insides.

"Why can't you?" He asked, shrugging. I bit my lip, knowing that I've seen enough horrible experiences to last ten lifetimes. Besides, the constant worry, fear and pity for everyone else who wasn't surviving was constantly nagging at the back of my head.

"I've been through a lot in the past few months." His eyebrows rose upward in confusion, and I knew that he would ask. "Death can change a person deeply," I answered vaguely, before he even had the chance to ask. His hand found my face again and turned it towards him. I noticed, even though it was slightly dark, that his eyes were a deep green; I'd always wanted to marry someone with green eyes. Green eyes and auburn curls. Looking over at Yaacov, I couldn't tell what his hair was like because it had been freshly shorn off his head.

"So just forget about it. Don't pay attention to it." I growled inwardly. How could I not pay attention to it? I witnessed an innocent baby get shot, and one of my best friends be taken out to her death all on account of me.

"How can I forget about it!?" I screamed, infuriated with him suddenly. "I watched as an innocent baby died! I basically sent the little girl who was practically my little sister off to her death! I'll never see her again! I don't understand how you're so happy and calm when innocent people are dying this very second! People are being tortured, hurt, kil-" this time I was cut off by a pair of soft lips on my own. They were smooth, but too soft. Yet, I enjoyed it nonetheless. Before I could kiss back, he pulled his lips away, breathing heavily.

"Babushka," he panted out. "You can't always focus on the negative and what's going on to other people. You need to worry about yourself and make sure that you find time to enjoy yourself in life." I'd never thought of that before. I'd always been worried about death, or Duncan, or Rivkah.

"You're right," I replied, pulling his mouth back over mine. This time he was the one shocked and unable to comprehend what was going on. I pulled back and saw his eyes were wide, but he was smiling.

"What was that for?" he asked, his tone confused, her happy.

"You told me I needed to enjoy myself." That was all the response he needed to join our lips together once more.


	8. Actions Have Consequences

**Okay guys, here it is (finally!) I've been working FOREVER on this, and this weekend I finally had a chance to finish it :)**

**Much thanks to ProfessorMads becuz she's awesome lyke dat ;) and she kept hounding for the chapter again...and again...and again. And on the topic of nagging me for the next chapter, thanks to Maca for doing that too. Luv u both.**

**Thanks to Keytaro a LOOTTT! Not only for hounding me about the chapter, but also for drawing AH-MAZING fanart for this story! Check it out at http:/keytaro(dot)deviantart(dot)com/ just replace the (dot) with an acutal do :D. Go to his gallery and see his AWESOME fanart for this story, and more!**

**Okay, now one more thing before we get on with the story (yes, I know you all are dying to read it ;)) If you didn't know already, this story along with Kids are a Joy were both nominated on www(dot)thereadershavechosen(dot)eternflame(dot)com. Please, it would mean the world to me if you made an account and voted! All you have to do is go to this page http:/thereadershavechosen(dot)eternflame(dot)com/forum/index(dot)php, then on the left hand side you should see a button that says login/register. REGISTER FIRST! once you register, it will take you to the home page. Click on monthly reccomandations. then scroll down and go to misc fandoms. Then go ahead and vote! Please do! I want to win!**

**Now, onto the story!**

"Yaacov stop it!" I giggled playfully, pushing said man away from me. He didn't listen and held me around the waist again, kissing my collarbone despite my previous warning not to. I sighed in content; things couldn't get much better than this. My eyes flashed open to an unfamiliar sensation on my neck that was positively mind-numbing. Hazily, I remembered our surroundings and pushed him away, completely contradicting my previous thought that things couldn't have gotten better than this.

We were frolicking next to the familiar midden, sneaking around just to see each other. The air was pungent and cold around us; we had to be close just to keep warm in our thin clothing. This didn't bother Yaacov at all though, certainly not as much as it bothered me. Oh Yaacov, my eternal optimist. Nothing bothered him or lowered his mood upon arriving to the camp; not when the guards yelled at him, not when his cousin was beaten to a bloody pulp, not even when he was beaten himself-which had upset me more than it upset him. Again and again I'd asked why; how could he keep looking forward with a smile on his face?

His answer was simple; as long as he had me, he'd be fine.

We'd been together for three weeks; three glorious, joy-filled weeks. Well, as joyous as they could've been in the camp. We'd snuck around shamelessly, making out behind the midden, secretly touching during quick trips to the water pump and so on. I felt shameless doing all these things. I thought that Yaacov was the one; we had agreed on getting married as soon as we left the camp. What was the point in slowing the relationship and taking it step by step when we already knew that we wanted no one else?

I'd changed in the few weeks that Yaacov was here. More carefree, less strict when it came to following the rules. Respectful to guards? I wasn't on full alert for when they came, my mind usually hazy with Yaacov's soft kisses and memories of where he's touched me. I hadn't been fully aware when it came to what we were doing; and the consequences of what could happen drifted farther and farther away in my mind.

Never had I stopped to consider what would happen if a guard were to catch us together. Never had I even stopped to consider what would happen if Duncan were to catch us.

I should've been careful.

I should've remembered.

Duncan. The name made me cringe as every time I saw him or thought of him the after thought was what I was doing behind his back came to mind. I let him do whatever he pleased now, with an ulterior motive in my mind while he was doing these things. Every time he kissed me, I pretended he was Yaacov. I could feel myself responding to his sweet kisses and felt myself getting better at such things.

Things had changed between Duncan and I. I wasn't forced to do anything anymore; I did it of my own consent, as to get better with what I was doing with Yaacov. Of course, just as I liked it, things between Duncan and I hadn't risen to anything besides kissing and touching, nothing vulgar.

I was allowed a hairbrush and lipstick now. I had complained to Duncan about my growing hair being so messy, and willing to please me-and because he made me pay for it within my limits-he had acquired a hairbrush which I was allowed to use every night I came. The lipstick was from my first encounter with Yaacov. When Duncan first saw it, he asked why I needed it and where I had gotten it from. I had lied and said it was to please him. The answer pleased him. He allowed me to wear it, with the rule that only he was allowed to see me wearing it. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

I saw the admiration and lust in Duncan's eye. I knew he wanted me. I knew he was attracted to me in some way, and I used it to my advantage. I could see the desire in his eyes, and somewhere, deep down, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was to be punished. I tried to fight it off as long as I could; so far it worked.

Yaacov didn't know about Duncan; he didn't need to.

There was no point in ruining our perfect relationship; especially not over someone as ridiculous as Duncan. Yaacov wouldn't ask, because he didn't have the slightest idea who Duncan was, and I was careful not to say anything.

I knew Yaacov was ready to take it to the next level. I wasn't. I wanted to wait until we were married, following the rules of my papa-though, I hadn't thought about Papa in awhile; I was too ashamed of what he would think about what I was doing with Duncan. Yaacov thought it would take months, maybe years to get married, and he wanted me soon. He'd been trying everything to seduce me, and it was working quite well. Thinking of such thoughts brought me back to my current situation; focusing especially on the feeling of his lips on my collarbone. With much reluctance, I pushed him away, mumbling a quiet, 'no, Yaacov. I said not yet.'

"Why not, Babushka," he asked, whining a little. I had to look away from his convincing and blazing green eyes; I was sure that one day, they would be able to convince me of doing anything. I didn't want today to be that day.

"Because Yaacov, I'm not ready! I'm only seventeen!" He shrugged his shoulders, putting his arms around my waist and rubbing my lower back soothingly.

"So? My mother was fifteen when she had me, and my sister got married when she turned sixteen." I giggled, unable to help it.

"I'm not your mother, or your sister. Besides, I said I would marry you when we get out of the camp, didn't I?"

"Yes," he said exasperatedly, mocking extreme exasperation. "But that could be months, years away. I want you now. I want to make you mine this very instant." I scrunched my nose at the fact that it was okay with him to make love behind a midden. I was hoping for something more romantic. How after our wonderful marriage, he would take me into his arms, lead me to our bedroom, then caress me ever so gently and-I shook my head at such thoughts. Dreaming about the future, no matter how wanted it was, could be proven disappointing when the future came.

"Then..then...wait until I'm eighteen. When I'm eighteen you can have me. And that's only in a couple of months," I pleaded, desperate for my lover to stop frowning and to regain his cheerful smile. When the look on his face didn't cease, I decided to plea my case further. "Yaacov, my papa would never approve. He had always told me to remain pure and innocent until marriage."

"Yeah? And where is this so called Papa?" I took a deep breath, turning away from him and out of his arms.

"He's dead. Died when I was nine," I said quietly, trying not to recall the terrible moment. I head Yaacov suck in his breath behind me, and his hand rested on my shoulder soon after. I didn't bother to shrug it off; there was no point in being mad at the person I loved, and there was no way he could've known.

"Channa...I'm sorry," he whispered and hugged me from behind. Yes, I wouldn't let him call me Courtney, only Channa. The name rolled off better on his tongue, and it gave me the same wonderful feeling I'd had when Papa used to say it.

"It's okay, it's okay," I repeated, more for my own sake than his; I had said it as if I was trying to assure myself, not him.

"So, when you're eighteen?"

"Eighteen," I promised, turning around to face him and beginning to stroke his cheek.

"Metzooyan," he said cheerfully in hebrew, leaving me giggling as we leaned forward to join our lips with a sweet kiss, leading to something much more.

Little did I know what was in store for me. Little did I know that a pair of eyes were watching us the whole time.

o 0 O 0 o

Barging into my room, I kicked the wall indignantly, eyes burning with jealousy. How dare she. That filthy fucking little whore. I'd let my guard down, believed that she was a pure, innocent little angel, and then she sneaks up behind me and stabs me in the back. This was the punishment I got for trusting and being involved with a filthy Jew.

She'd found a new lover; and a jewish one at that. She was in love with him now, kissing him, probably fucking him too. No, the last part wasn't true, I recalled, replaying the scene in my head. She wanted to make her papa happy. She wanted to wait until they were married. The simple word made me want to vomit all over their cheap excuse for a relationship. I knew why she was doing this. She didn't love him, she couldn't love him, I knew for a fact. She just wanted to get away from me. But it still wouldn't explain why she was so enthusiastic about kissing me and touching me. I was so confused, so enraged I wanted to take her and bury her alive.

"Blvde fotze, du arschgefickter hrensohn!" I screamed, beyond enraged with both her and myself. Prinzessin was mine! Didn't she know that! I was going to kill that son of a bitch first, and then her. Damn my inexistent soul if I didn't send her to be cremated this very second. Taking a deep breath, and calming down some, I realized that killing her on the spot wouldn't be the right way to settle things, not even close. Just like she'd taken herself away from me, I had to take what she valued most away from her.

She thought she was so clever, teasing me when I saw her, making herself pretty, just for me. Only it wasn't for me, it was for that filthy mother-fucker. She'd put on lipstick and brushed her growing hair, saying that I was the only one that could see her like this. She'd let me toy with her, let me kiss her without complaint; but now I understood. She'd probably pretended that I was her jewish lover. The thought made me feel like scum; used, dirty, and betrayed.

Prinzessin was going to pay, she was going to pay dearly.

o 0 O 0 o

She'd been led into the room by the other guard, acting obedient, miserable and sullen only for him to see. One he'd left she waltzed around the room, making herself comfortable, unaware of anything I'd seen, and very oblivious to what was in store for her. I'd welcomed her into my arms gracefully, betraying nothing but pure devotion and admiration. We kissed quickly, on both our parts; she was probably so eager to get back to her Jewish lover, and I was eager to punish her. Little hure had no clue what was waiting in store for her tonight.

Like her original routine, she went over to my mirror and applied her lipstick, making her lips look full and pouty; I recalled the night where I had allowed her to wear the provocative object, on terms that she would never wear it outside of our meetings. Then she brushed her tousled hair, with the hairbrush she'd pleaded so much for me to provide her with. I recalled that night too; she just couldn't live with tangled hair, she'd pleaded. And I, wishing to make my Prinzessin happy, had supplied her with it. Now, watching her brush her hair-most likely tousled from the stupid asshole-made me sick to my stomach. I didn't like looking at her, it made me feel like taking her to the crematory this very instant.

I'd made the mistake of falling for her charm, her innocence, her beauty; but when I saw her with him I felt all the admiration, lust, and wanting of her vanish in an instant. She'd forgotten all the lessons I'd taken pains to teach her. She took advantage of my dimness of her social life and went out and frolicked with a piece of shit. She thought she was so pretty, what with her grown hair, and her make-up. I had to change all of that; she wasn't going to look the least bit attractive ever again, not If I had anything to say about it.

Without a sound I strode up behind her and shoved her hard against the wall, away from the mirror; I couldn't have her unconscious, not yet. She was caught by surprise and I forced her to face me, smacking her across the face once she was facing forward. If it hadn't been for my arms holding her in place, she would've reeled backwards from the heavy blow. She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes, not knowing what she did wrong. If only she knew. I shoved her to the floor, ignoring her cries of pain.

"You think I'm stupid enough not to know what was going on? You think I wouldn't have figured it out eventually!" I yelled, watching her cower from fear. With a swift motion, I kicked her hard in her side. She cried out in pain, clutching her side painfully. I ignored her cries, the cloak of anger taking over every part of my body. I didn't care about anything except punishing her and forcing her to feel pain, over and over again until she'd relieved what I had to go through.

"Speak you filthy Hundin!" I yelled, wanting to hear what she had to say for herself.

"What...what did I do? Duncan..what did I do wrong?" she half gasped, half choked out as I had been kicking her while she was speaking. She took her time answering, as she wasn't used to the harm I was inflicting on her; she should've spoken faster. With a swift blow to the stomach, the wind was knocked out of her.

"Duncan!" she gasped in pain, crumpling on the ground while recoiling in pain. How dare that lying bitch use my name. It sounded like vile on her tongue; reminding me of all the times she had moaned it, groaned it, and whined it. And it wasn't even for me. It was all an act so she could go back to her new lover. I didn't want to hear her speak it ever again; I wasn't her friend, not even close. Especially not after what she'd done, and if she wanted any form of 'kindness'-I mentally spat at the term-ever again, it would take a thousandfold worth of punishments, favors and signs of repentance.

"Why do you call me that, Hundin? What right do you have? I am not your friend, nor do I like you, filthy hure. You will only address me as 'Sir' from now on, if I ask you to address me at all you piece of shit. Is that clear?" I growled, enjoying how much she was shaking from fear, and the beyond terrified look in her eyes. Tonight, I would ignore my disparaging conscience, and give Prinzessin the punishment she had coming for her since the moment I laid eyes on her.

"Y-y-yes Sir," she stuttered, near tears. The tears made me feel better; I wanted her to cry an ocean by the time I was finished with her. Briskly I lifted her by the arm, flinging her off to the side soon after.

"Do you know why I'm so angry?" I whispered viciously, refusing to go look at her.

"N-n-no Sir," she lied. This made me even more enraged. I sat down in front of her and was able to straddle her quickly, even with the resistance she offered.

"You're lying. Now tell me why I'm so angry at you," I bit out, my words clipped and forced. Her eyes widened as she began to sob again. I did nothing; I didn't move, I didn't hit her, I certainly didn't comfort her. I simply waited.

"Tell me now!" I roared after a good ten minutes of her worthless crying. She couldn't even bring up her hands to wipe her eyes, she was defenseless.

"I...I've been sneaking around your back," she finally sobbed out, sounding ashamed. "I've found my lover, my soul mate." I couldn't take the bullshit she was spewing at me anymore. I spit in her face; that would teach her to spew her fucked up romance at me. She was mine, no one else's. I was in control of her life. I was in control of when she slept, when she ate, when she talked, of her family and friends too. I was in control of her life.

"Why? Why have you chosen him?" I asked, my voice cold like death. By the time I was through with her she would've wished she could've been dead.

"He...he loves me," she choked out. That single comment fueled me up; I punched her hard in the face.

"Nobody loves you, you fucking, lying piece of trash!" She remained silent, so I was able to continue.

"You fucking hure! You don't belong to anybody else! You're mine! Mine, mine, mine!" I ranted, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her up, not bothering to let go.

"You think you're so pretty? You think he loves your pretty hair? We'll see about that," I said feverishly, looking around the room in a crazed state. On the dresser I managed to find a large pair of industrial scissors, and I wielded them at her menacingly.

"Oh, no, Duncan please don't! It just grew back!" I growled; first rule broken in less than ten minutes. She'd changed, she didn't listen anymore. I'd teach her a lesson, a lesson she would never, ever forget. Opening and closing the scissors quickly, I pulled her hair taut with my fist, closing the blades around the locks quickly and watching the short, helpless brown strands flutter to the floor. I looked at her-on the floor sobbing, as she'd fallen when the scissors released my hold on her-and grinned; I'd managed to shear the chunk very close to the scalp, but it wasn't good enough. The clippers would make short work of what the scissors couldn't cut. Ignoring her cries of protest, I clipped off her hair maniacally until there wasn't anymore I could cut. Now she'd remember; every time she came and looked in the mirror, she'd see a bald head looking back at her, and she would remember.

"Sit up, Hundin. I'm going to shave you like a man." I watched with pleasure as her eyes popped open, pleading with me not to. She hadn't even been subjected to this during the first day. Now she would remember.

"Oh no, please don't," she begged again, tears continuing to fall from her eyes. "Please don't. I promise it won't happen again." I didn't even bother to dignify her pathetic plea with a response as I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the mirror.

"Just for that, you get to watch." Her eyes had looked about ready to pop out of their sockets when she took in her appearance, and I wasted no time in pushing the manual clippers against the middle of her head. She gasped as a freshly shorn head faced back at her. I smirked in victory; no longer would that son-of-a-bitch look at her with affection and lust in his eyes.

"Like what you see, Prinzessin? Attractive isn't it?" She let out a out a small sob in response; but I wasn't finished with her yet, not even close.

o 0 O 0 o

My blood turned cold. Rape. That was to be my fate; we'd both known it from the moment we'd first interlocked eyes. No matter what was I'd done in my power to prevent it, it was the conclusion of my actions.

"Stop it! Don't do this to me! You're a monster! A filthy, sick german schmeisser! Let go of me!" He kneed me in my bare stomach and I collapsed in pain.

"This will teach you that you're mine! Nobody else's! Especially not that son-of-a-bitch " He grabbed me by the shoulders and clutched them tightly, dirty fingernails digging into my skin and leaving marks. "This skin is mine," he growled grabbing me everywhere he could. Nothing was left unscathed; breasts, thighs, legs, stomach. I was pretty sure by morning that I would be black and blue all over. His sandpaper hands burned me all over, the cold night air not even bothering to provide me relief as he pressed himself harder against me. With a triumphant chuckle, he pressed his filthy mouth against mine, tongue entering inside only a few mere seconds later. His breath tasted worse than usual; more alcohol, more venom. He bit my lip so hard, he drew blood, and he lapped it up victoriously like a dog. "This dirty little mouth is mine." His words were so familiar; and I vaguely remembered the pain from the last time.

Yaacov, I screamed on the inside, where are you? Why don't you come save me? You were supposed to be my first, not this shmendrik. Papa, why did you leave Mama and me? Why didn't you get better? Why did you leave me without enough knowledge about men to know why they did such things to women?

I couldn't focus on much of anything Duncan was doing to me when I knew what was going to happen. I had to get away.

Away.

Away...

o 0 O 0 o

"Papa! Papa!" Numb legs carried me to my house, with speed I'd never known had been inside me before. Shaking my head in order to clear the disturbing, inappropriate visions that were running in my mind, I made my legs run faster so that I could see Papa.

Upon reaching my house, I flung the door open and rush straight into the arms of my mama, bawling into her apron and wishing that the things I'd just seen would escape my mind permanently. Her hands reached my windblown hair and flattened it gently, trying to ask me what was wrong with her words. It wouldn't work, I only wanted Papa; Papa would understand. He would tell me how to make things better. Mama seemed to understand-most likely because I kept calling out his name while crying-and went to fetch him, depositing me on the dining table, still sobbing. Papa came quick, putting his arms around me and leading me to his study, where we could talk alone.

"Channa, ma kara?" he asked me in hebrew, knowing that the warm and familiar language would comfort me more than the usual english tongue. I tried wiping my eyes free of all tears, but it didn't work; more rained down steadily. When I couldn't answer he lifted my trembling figure and sat it on his strong lap, holding me and rocking me gently. Finally, I was able to calm down and feel safe and secure again.

"Papa, Papa, I saw...a man and woman...and they were doing..but he was hurting her! You told me that you only would do it if there was someone you loved!" His wrinkly eyes narrowed in confusion, and he lifted my head up to meet my eyes.

"What did you see?"

"A man, and a woman. And they were lovemaking...but Papa, she didn't want to do it! And he forced her! He ripped off her clothes...and..and.." here I started to bawl all over again into Papa's shirt, inhaling the familiar smell of tobacco and cinnamon spice. His arms were around me then, comforting what he could.

"Why Papa? Why did you lie to me? You told me only husbands and wives do it when they're in love. Or when they want to make a baby." His face turned dark then, eliciting a kind of fear in me that I didn't know was possible.

"Channa-le, what they did wasn't an act of lovemaking. It was much worse; and only the lowest, most selfish and evil kind of people would force this on others."

"But Papa, why? Why would they force this on others?"

"Because they want things. Things you are too young to know. I'm really sorry that you had to see that, Channa. That isn't right." I nodded, feeling secure against his chest.

"Papa, you'd never let that happen to me, right?" He held me tighter, planting a kiss against my flushed cheek.

"Never."

o 0 O 0 o

A sharp pain forced my eyes open. I couldn't pretend and escape the situation any longer; Duncan was inside of me. I was in the process of being raped.

It hurt, my god it hurt like hell. I tried to force him out, I became tighter around him, but none of it worked; he would only thrust inside of me harder. My cries became muffled by my own hand but, he grabbed it angrily as he thrusted even harder.

"I want to hear your sufferings." I wouldn't give him the pleasure, I just couldn't. But as I felt something inside break, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I began to scream and sob; gone. The last shred of innocence I had; gone. He took it all away; all my fault, all my fault for flirting with Yaacov. I looked upon his face and he was grinning widely in satisfaction.

"Now you'll never be his. You'll always be mine. I hope your papa is certainly proud of you now, you little hure." Papa...Papa. Why did you lie to me? You told me this would never happen to me. You promised you would always protect me; you promised you would always be there for me.

Who was left to protect me now?

Nobody.

Nobody would want me now. Everybody would find out soon enough of this malicious deed; not even my Yaacov would want me.

Never again would I break the rules. Never again would I dare step out of line.

I would remember. Remember the punishment.

After an eternity of pain, he pulled out. I hadn't ceased my crying, I didn't plan to. I was sore all over; I wasn't sure I could stand. He stood and got dressed, turning to look at me only after he'd done so. He smirked at my crying, shaking figure.

"Get dressed. I hope you've learned your lesson, tonight. But your punishment isn't over yet. Wait until you see what's done to your precious lover." Without a sound he walked out of the room, leaving me on the floor in the dark.


	9. Faults and More Consequences

**Hey guys, short chapter, I know, but I hope it's good enough. Slight idea for what the next chapter is going to be about, not so sure yet. **

**You guys really like this story, don't you? I appreciate all the love you have given this story, truly and gratefully. **

**A HUGE, TREMENDOUS shout out goes to HEARTANDSTAR101. Without her, I probably wouldn't have updated this story right now. She's nagged and begged for the next chapter for weeks, and weeks, and now she finally gets it, so she better be happy and leave a nice review ;) jkjk, luv ya.**

**Originally, this chapter would have been posted a couple of days later, due to Alexex's birthday, but I couldn't resist posting it the moment I finished. So, birthday shout out goes to her! Love her, so, so, so much :) **

**Other shout outs go to professormads, Maca, theatherofthemind, and SKetchdiva.**

**Hope you guys like it. Review please :D**

Feet as silent as falling snow, I crept through the barrack, hoping to find my mother. Hushed tears ran down my face as continuous thoughts zig zagged through my head; impure child. Lascivious, malicious, ungrateful excuse of a human being. I brought this on myself; I was tainted because I was a filthy hure. How could I have done such a thing? Didn't I know of the consequences?

I needed my mother. I wanted to be cradled my her thin arms; mere ghosts of what they used to be. I wanted a part of my family to comfort me through what I'd been through. I wanted my Yaacov. I wanted him to hold me and stroke my back and whisper in my ear; reassuring me that I would be okay, that everything would be okay.

But I truly and severely needed and wanted Papa. I wanted to be comforted by his strong arms. I wanted to hear his jokes that weren't all that funny. I wanted to smell his reassuring smell that overpowered his shirts. I needed him to tell me that everything would be okay. I needed him to tell me that I wasn't impure, or unholy, or a sinner. I needed him to tell me that it wasn't all my fault. I needed him to tell me that this would be the last time that something of this sort would happen to me.

But Papa was gone.

Papa was never coming back.

And life was never, ever only about me. What I wanted would not matter to anybody besides myself. Papa was gone and I would not see him until I died myself. The thought of killing myself just for the liberty or being with Papa again struck me as brilliant, but I couldn't such a thing to my mother. And if I failed who knew how sincere and everlasting my punishment from Duncan would be?

I was a sinner of the worst kind; A sinner to my religion. I let a german rape me.

What if there was to be a baby? What then? How would I carry a child in the camp? I couldn't raise a baby, I was just shy of eighteen, not ready in the very least. I bit my lip and held back a sob as to not wake the others up. I was so ignorant, so young, and so inexperienced. How was I to know the consequences of love? How was I to know the pain and sorrow that it brought? Shaking my head, I continued to stumble down the rows, finally coming across the shelf of my mother.

"Mama," I choked, shaking her slightly. She didn't stir. _Move, Mama, move. Please, wake up,_ I begged silently, hoping that she would soon wake up.

"Mama, help me," I croaked, slightly louder, more tears falling down my soaked cheeks. She opened her black eyes in an instant, taking in my appearance in the dark. I knew what I looked like; hairless, filled with bruises, bloody cuts that would most likely turn into scars. I didn't dare look into any item that would show my reflection. She lifted up a hand to my face-and thank god not my shaven head-and stroked a small cut carefully, wiping off lingering blood.

"Do I have to ask what happened?" she asked sympathetically, and so motherlike. I shook my head no and bawled in her arms, not daring to stop. Somehow-I didn't remember how-I ended up on her shelf, but her rawboned arms were around me the whole time, rubbing my back as I bawled into her chest. And that was all that I needed.

"It's gone Mama, it's all gone," I sobbed, but she had to ask what was gone. What wasn't gone? Everything; my love, my joy, my hope, my innocence, my looks, my freedom, my health, part of my family, and the necklace. Everything was gone, and I would never get it back.

"He took it away Mama, he took it away." I think she understood, for she didn't ask more. The way I was grieving probably set her straight. I lay there all night, sobbing in her arms; I didn't care if anyone saw. I didn't care if they sent me to be gassed; I wanted to go.

What was there left to live for?

**o 0 O 0 o**

My paces to the water pump were heavy raindrops, quick and without turning back; I couldn't run into _him_. If I ran into _him_, then the other _him_ would most likely and on the spot know, and I'd get into even worse trouble. I'd begged not to be sent to the water pump today, I pleaded with the girls to let somebody else go. They didn't understand; they couldn't comprehend with all the commotion I was causing.

And, of course, my pleas were cut short as soon as a guard came to check in on us.

Biting my lip, I scanned the area for _him_. He wasn't there; but I wouldn't be fooled, especially not this time. I couldn't even count the number of times he'd snuck up on me while I wasn't looking, wrapping his arms around my waist and whispering devilish suggestions in my ear.

"_Wait until you see what's done to your precious lover."_ The words rang through my head as I quickened my paces-something that I wasn't sure was even remotely possible. Silent prayers had been running through my head-along with all of my other jumbled thoughts-for nothing to happen to Yaacov. I couldn't let his life be taken on my account.

Glancing around the seemingly empty area, I quickly hurried to fill my bucket of water; faltering only slightly because of how sore and cut up I felt. No matter, pain didn't matter. All that mattered was keeping him safe, alive, and away from me.

Shame, guilt, and utter longing flushed over my being, despite having the urge to never, ever touch a male again. How could I put my one love in such danger? I knew I should have stayed away. I knew I shouldn't have flirted with him. No matter now, all that mattered was his safety.

The bucket was full by now and I lifted it up hastily, ignoring the pain. I walked quickly with my head down until I crashed head on into someone. I knew better than to mumble any apologies if it was a german. But it wasn't. A rough finger lifted my chin up to bring my face to his and my eyes widened in shock.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't talk to me, go away," I nearly begged, trying to make my way around him.

"Babushka, ma kara? Hakol beseder?" I shook my head no and muttered the same sentence over again. Thankfully I was wearing my kerchief so he couldn't see the damage done to my hair and question on that too. Unfortunately he didn't let go of me and kept asking me questions that I reluctantly ignored. Noticing the commotion that had begun to rise among us, I began to panic, looking at my love with wide, hysterical eyes.

"Go, please go. Don't risk your life fussing over me. Please go, my love, please leave," I begged, about to start sobbing any minute. Being the man he was, he didn't listen to me. He planted his feet firmly on the gravely ground and set to get the tears to stop leaking out of my eyes.

"Yaacov plea-"

"What's going on here?" an accented voice laced with venom asked. I didn't have to look up to know who it was; yet I did anyways. Duncan stood there, high and mighty, his eyes smirking with victory. No, I couldn't let Yaacov die. I would take his place. I didn't care to live anymore. Life didn't matter, nothing could be achieved in it.

"I was fraternizing with a male," I spoke glumly, keeping my eyes downward and trying my best to look ashamed and guilty at being 'caught'. His eyes narrowed, but they still remained smirking.

"No! I was talking with her! She tried to tell me to go away and I refused to listen," Yaacov's voice suddenly yelled out. My head snapped up with shock as I stared wide-eyed into his determined face. He really did love me. He was willing to take death in order to spare my life. He would die, die, die, die. Andit would be all my fault, all my fault; I couldn't let it happen. Yet the look on Duncan's face assured me that there would be nothing that I could do to stop it. This was surely his plan from the start; to get rid of the one thing I loved most.

"Well then, there will be a price payed. Follow me."

"NO!" I screamed, using the strength of my voice to its fullest extent. "Take me instead! I beg of you! Spare him, Duncan! Spare him, and kill me!" I screamed loud enough for the whole campsite to hear, and by this point I was sobbing. I couldn't lose my Yaacov! I just couldn't! He was supposed to be my one love, my one soulmate. We were supposed to have kids together: two boys and a little girl which he would have doted on with all his heart. I couldn't take his life away from him, I just couldn't. I faced Duncan straight on with teary eyes, not daring to look away. It was so silent, you could have heard the earth moving.

Without notice, and as if in slow motion, Duncan grabbed be and forced me in front of him, making a show out of me to all the others, and especially to Yaacov. He ripped off my kerchief and at that point I couldn't look Yaacov in the eyes.

"So, Yaacov, is it? Courtney has told me much about you. Has she told you much about herself?" He wouldn't have dared tell him about the previous night, and all the others. Yet, his grip on my arms and the smirk burning behind me proved me wrong. I was over, done with. When my love gave no response, Duncan continued with a chuckle. "No? Did you know, this Prinzessin, is my little hure?"' I closed my eyes, out of fear, or humiliation, I wasn't sure. I knew I couldn't bear to look my love in the eyes. Suddenly I was dropped to the ground in a heavy heap, crumpled and begging for the end of my existence.

"N-no. That isn't true. My Channa would never-"

"Oh, but she already has. Every single night she dotes on me, in every way possible." I begged God to have a heart attack right then and there, or to let the ground swallow me up whole and take me from this cruel, malicious world. But grounds never swallow people up when wanted, much less swallow people at all. How foolish I was. How unbelievably imprudent I was for falling in love and dreaming about a happy future. Never again would I do this. Never again would I betray an ounce of impure emotion.

"Did you know she's impure? She's been lying to you, Boy. She was never going to give herself up to you. That privilege, has already been given to me." My head snapped up at this comment; I didn't know why, but I had to see my angel's face. Twisted in confusion, he simply looked at me. When I bowed my head in shame, his face took on the pain and anger that had every right to belong to him. I was ruined, and now he was going to pay for it.

"Yes. She's not such an angel now, is she? Such a shame that you will be the one paying for it, no?" I wanted to whisper out Yaacov's name, just to get his attention. I yearned to make him believe that this wasn't the truth. I yearned to be cradled in his arms and feel safe and protected; no such luck. I was kicked aside my the devil as I saw him walk behind Duncan towards the crematorium.

"Yaacov, please," I croaked, loud enough for him to hear. He turned around, and gave me a single, loathsome look that would be etched into my mind for eternity. Bitter and twisted, his mouth formed into a hard line that never showed a hint that there once had been a smile there. His eyes were dark and clouded, burning into my very soul the impurity and pain I'd caused on another and screamed the words 'I hate you'. His face was now gaunt and shallow, any evidence of sunlight and joy once being there permanently gone. The only thing I could manage to do was to utter out a sob as he turned his head away and walked towards his death. Duncan looked once back to me, a hard, permanently engraved smirk on his lips. But his eyes were entirely different. They were screaming 'just you wait till tonight'.

Tonight. Oh my lord. What had I done? Not only to Yaacov, but to myself? Duncan was going to murder me himself tonight, after raping me and beating any living soul that was left out of me. It would certainly be an eventful evening, in the most malign way.

Work went back to normal, for the other people at the camp, I mean. For me, on the other hand, I was receiving multiple glares and acts of bitter resentment for sending my love to death. Wasn't the guilt on my shrunken heart enough. Clearly the answer was a no, seeing as the acts continued throughout the day, until I finally lay on my shelf and sobbed my heart out. Now he was dead, the light of my life was now dead. Who was to blame for this? Not Duncan, not himself. Me, all me. I lay on my shelf for a goo hour before I was roughly thrown off of it.

"Get over yourself you ungrateful bitch! How _dare_ you make a romance behind my back? Have I taught you nothing? Now look what you've caused, you caused a poor, innocent young man to die." These words didn't come from another woman. They didn't come from Eliana, or Leah. These words came from my mother. My own mother. I barely looked up at her and she relentlessly kicked me in the side.

"Are you happy now, you whore? Is your life worth it now, bitch? I hope you know how _proud_ I am of you right now. Your father would be so ashamed of you at the moment. I don't ever want to speak to you again." My eyes refilled with tears at these statements but I didn't say anything to hopefully temper the situation. I hoped, that in due time, she would forgive me.

"Your german lover is waiting for you," she spat. "Go." when I didn't move, she kicked me again, harder. "I said GO you lying, ungrateful piece of shit!" As quickly as I could in my condition, I got up and scurried to the door, walking to Duncan's room in absolute silence. My own mother literally disowned me. She didn't love me anymore. And if my own mother didn't love me anymore, what was there really left to live for? Nothing, that's what.

Reaching Duncan's room, I kept my eyes averted and waited at the door for directions. None came. Instead he stood and walked around me in a slow, steady circle. The rhythm and repetitiveness of the action was almost soothing, had it been any other type of situation that didn't involve me.

"Your lover was very angry at you. He didn't make a single protest when I sent him to be gassed. Did you teach him that? You taught him well then," he talked, to himself, and without waiting for any response of mine. What was there left for me to say? I already knew all of this; I was simply waiting for him to beat and rape me so I could finally go to sleep.

"I hope you learned a lesson from all of this. I am your only 'love' here in this camp. I am the only one who you will be allowed to touch and kiss. If I catch you so much as looking to anyone of the opposite gender ever again, I will send you to be gassed. Understood?" I nodded glumly, not knowing if I had the nerve to talk.

"I can't hear you, _Channa_."

"Yes Sir."

"Have you learned a lesson from all of this?" Yes, yes I had. Love was stupid and only led to pain and suffering. Love in a concentration camp was pointless and dangerous. If Duncan finds out about your love, he will rape you and kill your lover. If you fall in love, your lover will be killed. Those were the main lessons that I learned, but there were many, many, many more.

"Yes, I most certainly have, Sir."

"Good girl. Now, do you feel you need to be punished tonight?" This took some time to answer. Although my initial response was a definite no, something kept me from saying the particular response. I felt I needed to be punished. Not that I was looking forward to being punished, but I felt that it was exactly what I needed. I was a naughty, misbehaved girl, and I needed to fully learn my lesson.

"Yes Sir, I need to be punished. I have disobeyed you and the rules, and I need to punish myself for it. Punish me as you please, Sir." His eyes widened in astonishment, but he accepted it with no protest.

"I see. Do you give me permission to do with you as I please without resistance and with complete tolerance?" My eyes were hard and my mouth was curved into bitter resentment. I deserved everything that would be dished out to me. I couldn't turn back now, this was it.

"Yes sir."

And so the longest, most painful night of my life began.


	10. The New Girl in Camp

**Hi guys! I'm getting back in the habit of updating :D I actually like this chapter a lot! This chapter is kinda like a 'part 1 of 2', so stay tuned! Thanks to heartandstar101, and to WritingIsAPoison, cause they both were A LOT of help for this chappie! Hope you guys like it! **

**Let's see if I can top the reviews from the last chapter ;) thats 16, fyi :D**

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to maneuver through the crowd of people. A large commotion was gathered around the entry area to the camp, and I had absolutely no idea what on earth was going on. Of course, nobody answered my question as people tried to block my way. It was unbelievable how bitter people could still be, weeks later after the incident.

I had let my mind temporarily forget about him, as there was no need to remember him at the moment. I had resorted to my old attitude, the one where rules and following them were my top priority. I didn't talk to any of my old friends, much less look at them. Eliana had killed herself anyways, unable to take it anymore in the camp. It happened merely over a week ago, right after dinner. I found her in the barrack on her bed, turned on her side. I had figured she was merely grieving over the loss of her brothers, but upon further inspection a thin rope was tied around her neck. All I could do was gasp in horror and lower my head, then head to alert the others. Something of this sort wasn't out of the ordinary. Deaths were common. I didn't blame her for wanting to kill herself, she'd already lost her child, her littlest sister, and recently her brothers-who were killed on account of getting sick-and after my shunning, she had no one left but her unsupportive mother to look after her. I understood where she had been coming from; although my temptation to kill myself was lessened, it was still there.

Barely making it through the crowd of people, I came to see a boxcar, and a sudden sense of nostalgia took over. Those were the same boxcars that had delivered my mother and everybody else to the camp, so long ago. Fighting back the deja-vu, I was greeted with a familiar scene, german soldiers ordering around the new prisoners, making them split into two sections. I knew what was to be their fate, I had been there myself and lived through the terror; the memory still sharp as stone.

"Hey! Zis isn't fair! My modzer!" A girl from the new shipment cried out in an accent, being dragged off by a soldier to where she was supposed to be standing. Wide eyed, I stared at the girl, charmed by her beauty that would soon be gone. She was delicate and slim, body like a bird's. Her hair was ebony and reached her hips in glorious curls, prettier than I could have ever hoped my hair to be. I was envious of her features, her beauty, and her grace; all that had been stolen from me. No matter, I reminded myself, all of it would be taken away within a matter of minutes.

"She's already dead. Now follow directions," the guard ordered, throwing her in a silently crying heap with the other women. Feeling remorse for this girl, I wanted to warn her of what was to come, so she would've been less frightened. I wanted to explain the rules to her, give her everything I would have killed to know on my first day. But we were separated by a fence, and if I ever was to see her again, it would be too late. Tearing myself away from the sight, I began to head back to the kitchen, going to resume my chores before the guards saw this whole commotion and begin to inflict punishments. God knows that was the last thing I needed on my plate.

Work was grueling as usual, but my mind stayed on task, and it was completed. The two girls that had previously worked here were now dead, as one had not followed directions, and the other died from disease. So now, I was alone in the kitchen. All the work left to me to complete. Not that I had complained about it, for who was there to complain to? My mother ignored me, as she had disinherited me and disclaimed I was ever her daughter, all my friends were dead, and they rest of the woman shunned me. Besides, if I was to be caught complaining, there would be serious consequences. So I simply worked without a word and accomplished the tasks without a complaint.

Hours later, after dinner, I walked to my barrack silently, rubbing the purple blotches on my bony wrist. I had slipped and fallen upon washing the floors, and landed on my wrist in an attempt to catch my fall. Opening the creaky door to the barracks with my good hand, a familiar and nostalgic sight greeted me. New girls and women on their beds, sobbing into their pillows while we, the experienced ones, comforted them on their first night. Wanting to go comfort them myself, I was halted when women turned to glare their heads at me, making me leave to the retreat of my own bunk. Passing by the shelves, I noticed that there was an abundance of new people. I looked for the beautiful girl I had seen earlier, but to no avail. I climbed upon my shelf and lay there, listening to the familiar sounding sobs and wails; but one sounded different.

"Mon maman, mon maman," a young voice sobbed, speaking in a foreign tongue. Her voice was close, and it didn't take me long to figure out that she was right on top of me. Nobody comforted her, most likely because she was too quiet to even hear, and the others were getting more attention. Feeling pity for this neglected girl, I climbed upon her shelf and placed a hand gently upon her back, startling her from her misery. She lifted her shorn head and looked straight at me with teary, brown eyes. It was the girl from before, the one that had once been so beautiful. Now she was dressed in rags, very similar to my own, I noticed upon looking down at my own clothes, and her appearance was ruined in less than a couple of hours.

Without hesitation I took her in my arms and let her cry it all out, she needed it. My mother was here for me when I was forced to spend my first night here, and this girl needed somebody for her. I held her for quite a while before anybody noticed. It was my mother that noticed her and me first, climbing on her bunk next to me and removing her from my arms and giving me a cold glare that clearly stated 'leave. You aren't needed anymore.' More women came up to the girl's shelf upon noticing her, and suddenly it was crowded. Feeling unwanted, I climbed back down to my shelf, trying to listen in to the conversation.

"Darling, what's the matter?" my mother asked her quietly, sounding like the girl was her daughter instead of the one who she just kicked off the shelf.

"Mon maman," she sobbed, the unfamiliar word tingling in my senses.

"Yes Sweetheart. Do you speak english?" A moment was spent in silence before she cleared her throat and sniffled.

"My, my modzer," she spoke with her light accent, making it a bit hard to understand what she was saying. I strained my ears to hear more and to understand exactly what had happened to the girl's mother. "She..she fell asleep on ze train, and ze guard wouldn't let me go w-wake her up when we got off. It was so h-horrible," she concluded, breaking down into her sobs again. I figured her mother had died on the train ride to the camp, suffocated from the lack of air. My mother had described it to me one night, and I had been horrified and very grateful that I had taken the truck ride with Duncan.

"What country did you come from?" a woman asked, much to my satisfaction.

"France. We surrendered to ze Germans, and zey took all ze gypsies, ze jews, and everyone who dared rebel against zem. My modzer refused to stay there, and she forced me to come along with her. Next zing I knew, we were dragged into a truck and nearly suffocated for dzree days," she recounted, what sounded like a somewhat familiar story.

"We know Sweetheart, we know," my mother soothed, and all the other women agreed, trying to comfort her. I bit back tears, and closed my eyes, not wanting to hear anymore of this. How could my own mother treat a stranger with more love and compassion than her own daughter? I managed to doze off for a little while before a rough hand jerked me awake.

"Wake up, now. You're switching shelves with Jacqueline," a cold, familiar voice spoke, shaking me again with her thin, rough hands. I quickly recognized the speaker to be my mother and I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes devoid of sleep.

"W-who?" I stuttered, quite confused. Who was this Jacqueline? And why did I need to switch shelves with her? I liked my shelf just fine. My mother sighed impatiently and gave a reassuring look to the familiar french girl who stood next to her, looking timid and scared as a mouse. She looked between my mother and I as if she didn't recognize the relationship between us.

"Jacqueline," my mother spoke, the name sounding melodic and exotic by her tongue. She pointed to the girl next to her as my eyes widened.

"W-what? Why?" Why did I need to switch shelves with her? Wasn't her own just fine? It was all the same, no one more comfortable than the other.

"Jacqueline needs a mother to be with her, and I've offered to take her place. She needs to be closer to me. Now get up." I was appalled by this statement, a cold numbness spread through my body and prevented me to move. This all had to be a dream, on of my regularly occurring nightmares. I just had to remove myself from it. I grabbed whatever fleshy part was left on my arm and pinched it between my forefinger and my thumb so hard it became excruciatingly painful.

"B-but, you're my mother! And I'm scared of heights! This is my bed, I was here for months!" I choked, throwing out whatever I could to enable me to stay. Truthfully, I was too appalled and to tired to put up a strong argument. The so called 'Jacqueline' looked uncomfortable and quite shocked as she looked from my mother to me. My mother was unrepentant and scowled at me, displaying no hint of forgiveness.

"Too bad. Now switch shelves." Reluctantly, I grabbed my sweater and climbed up to what had used to be Jacqueline's shelf. Now cold and unwelcoming, the shelf was an exact replica of my mother's behavior towards me. How could she replace me with someone she had just met? Silent tears ran down my face as I tried to make myself more comfortable to the unfamiliar shelf.

How could she? My own mother. Despite pitying Jacqueline earlier, I couldn't help but feel greatly envious that she had stolen my mother from me in only a few mere hours. What was so special about this girl? What did she have that I didn't?

My mother.

**o 0 O 0 o**

"I am so sorry, Courtney," Jacqueline apologized for the millionth time, scrubbing the floors alongside me in the kitchen. Her and four other girls had been assigned to kitchen duty, much to both my enjoyment and annoyance. Of course she wouldn't know that she stole my mother from me; but the girl was stealing everybody with her charm and elocution, and it was barely her fourth day here! I admit, I was increasingly jealous of her beauty; despite her hair being gone, she remained quite a charming beauty, her brown eyes spreading warmness and comfort to anyone who crossed her path. I, on the other hand, had no beauty; my hair, which was my best feature, was gone, my eyes displayed a gaunt, shallow look, and my body was bony and scrawny. How was it fair that everyone liked her better? How was it fair that she was everything I wished I could be?

Ignoring her continuous apologies, I kept scrubbing the floors until my knuckles were red. At least there was one thing that would always stay the same; my work, and my visits with Duncan. He was coming back any day now, and despite my mutual hatred for him, I yearned to tell him what was bothering me. Of course, I would probably receive a long lecture, and a punishment for it later, but it was still something I wanted to do.

SInce I was already thinking about my upcoming visit to Duncan, I let my mind wander away from Jacqueline's melodic voice and began to think about just him. Things had gratefully cooled down between us, not as it was before, but better all the same. He realized that I had learned my lesson well, and started to just talk to me again. Let's see if the infamous Jacqueline could take that from me. I was his, and he was mine, and absolutely nothing, or nobody, to be more precise, could take that title away from me.

With that happy thought in mind, I continued to work, trying to ignore Jacqueline with full pleasure. It was hard though; apparently, Jacqueline was an expert at making the soup and cleaning the kitchen, right off the bat. It was hard to keep from rolling my eyes or growling every single time she did something perfectly right or every single time she got a comment from somebody else. By the time the guard was escorting me to go see Duncan, I had half a mind to sprint to his quarters. But I had to be patient and follow the rules, I wanted to be rewarded. By the time I was in Duncan's arms, I was practically jumping. He knew something was up, but kept torturing me, keeping me in the embrace for longer than necessary.

"Alright Prinzessin, you've been good. You may talk," he finally said, letting go of me, sitting on the bed, and patting his lap, my signal to come and sit. Only after I sat on his lap and kissed his cheeks multiple times did I know that it was really okay to talk to him. I knew what he liked, and I was only proven more correct when he let out a groan and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I missed you, Prinzessin." I smiled, feeling better than I had all week. I felt glad to know that he missed me, another step into complete forgiveness. The statement made small butterflies erupt in my stomach and I smiled earnestly, cradling his cheek in my hand.

"I missed you too," I admitted, knowing it was the truth. I did miss him. I missed the way I was his, and he was mine, and that stupid Jacqueline would never enter our world. So, maybe the way I missed him was a bit selfish, and only in competition with Jacqueline, but deep inside there was more. I honestly had missed his company. I didn't miss his punishments, but I missed the way his eyes lit up a tiny bit every time I came into his room. I missed his blunt, but true accusations. I missed the way he hugged me so tightly I thought my bones would break. I truly was his, and to an extent, he was mine.

"Now, what's been happening?" he asked, breaking me out of my peaceful stupor. Blinking and blushing slightly, I looked up at him, the knowing look in his eyes telling me that he knew exactly what or more like, who, I was thinking about. Turning my head away from his entrancing eyes, I sighed, twirling a loose thread from my dress before starting to ramble.

"Well, I had the kitchen to myself for a little while before Eliana killed herself, and my mother's treating me like trash, and I slipped and sprained my wrist a couple of days ago, and I accidentally stumbled out of line two days ago, so a guard gave me ten lashes for it and-"

"Prinzessin," he cut me off, grabbing my chin and forcing my ramble of pointless news to stop. "One statement at a time. So, let me see if I got everything. A friend of yours killed herself, your mother is disrespecting you, you sprained your wrist and you got whipped?" I nodded slowly, seeing that he had retained everything that I had just said with clear accuracy. I knew that it had taken him a couple of months to acquire this skill, what with all the rambling I had done in the past. With a sigh he lifted me off his lap and stood, going to his drawers and ruffling through them before pulling out a first aid kit. As if it was routine, I stood as well and turned around, wordlessly beginning to take off my clothes, then holding my dress to my breasts and laying face-down on the bed. He began to apply the medication to the healing wounds, not saying a word until about halfway through.

"Now, tell me what's really wrong. I can tell you're hiding something." Damn it. The damned German could read me like a book after a couple of months of carefully observing my movements and actions. Sighing frustratedly, I let out a groan but decided it would be best to talk.

"A new shipment came in a couple of days ago."

"And? Something about this is making you truly upset." I nodded, feeling my hatred for the putrid, insanely overbearing girl rise up again.

"There's this new girl, and she's perfect. She's beautiful, she's kind, she does all the hard work without any complaint, and it's absolutely sickening. Everybody likes her! Even my mother likes her more! She's treating Jacqueline like she's her own daughter, instead of me! She's my replacement, I'm sure of it," I shot out, breathing heavily. I soon felt his hand on my lower back, rubbing it gently, but with a firmness that was entirely soothing.

"So, Jacqueline's her name? She must be from France. That's where I was these past couple of days; we were clearing out France of all the Jews, and the Gypsies, and whoever else." I nodded, not having anything else to say. He trailed his fingers down my legs, an action that made me involuntarily shiver.

"Don't worry about it, Prinzessin. Who cares about everybody else? They'll probably all die within a couple of months anyways. And if your mother keeps on treating you like crap, I will personally make sure that she's first in line to go to the gas chambers." Eyes going wide, I started to breathe shallowly, wondering if he would really do such a thing. It took me a good minute before realizing this was his way of offering consolation and making me feel better. Smiling softly, I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see.

"Don't do that. She's my mother, and though she hates me, I love her, and I want her with me, in a way." It was the truth; although I was deeply wounded by my mother's actions, I did still love her, and wanted her in plain sight, just so I would know that she was okay. If a person didn't love their mother, they had nothing left to live for in life.

"Fine. But the minute you give me permission... " he trailed off, before clearing his throat and continuing again. "None of those people, or the behaviors they emit to you, matter. All that matters is you, your health, the work you do, and me. Understood?" I couldn't help but smile and nod, feeling reassured. "I can't hear you, Prinzessin. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir." That was all he needed to tear the dress away from my chest and to push his mouth on mine feverishly. "Please, Sir. Don't...please don't," I whimpered, feeling uncomfortable, yet knowing what this night would come to.

"No.I need to cement the deal. I need to make sure that you don't disobey." Feeling tears rise up in my eyes again, I could do nothing but submit myself to him, the only things I felt I could enjoy were his rough kisses upon my mouth.

**o 0 O 0 o**

"Courtney, could you help me wiz zis soup? I honestly can not seem to peel potatoes right." Cringing at the way Jacqueline's voice sounded so melodic and sweet, and so unlike my slightly nasal one, I reluctantly stood and went over to the counter, grabbing a potato and a peeler and starting to peel them wordlessly. An entire week at camp, and she still didn't know how to peel potatoes, how pathetic. Why was I even helping her? I should have ignored her and either let her learn on her own, or be killed off because she didn't know how to handle a simple task. But that would never happen to the precious Jacqueline; the other girls would probably teach her before she could even ask, and then scrutinize me with their ferocious glares for betraying their lovely Jacqueline.

"Oh zank you so much! I 'ave no idea what I would do wizout you," she thanked profusely, struggling to peel potatoes beside me. She thought she was so perfect, it sickened me to a large extent. And the others thought she was so cute, the way she was like a little maid, knowing how to do everything and anything without anybody's help. She wouldn't last, I tried to remind myself. Or, at least that was what I was hoping to happen. Maybe Duncan would kill her off for me. Scolding myself for thinking like that, I reminded myself that he would probably lecture me again.

"Don't thank, just watch, and learn." She was oblivious to my tone of voice and attitude, and did as I commanded. I didn't know why she saw me as a friend, I'd been nothing but cold to her since that one night. Either she was really desperate for friends, or she was really lacking of a proper brain.

Things went pretty quiet after that, until some strange noises were coming from the outside. Not bothering to turn around, as I knew it wasn't my place, I kept peeling the potatoes. That is, I continued peeling until Jacqueline nudged me in the side. About to turn around and yell at her for doing such a thing, I noticed the worried yet repulsed look on her face. She pointed to the window, and upon following the direction of her finger I noticed a group of guards outside the window, snickering and staring at us. Now repulsed myself, I turned back around and returned to my potatoes, knowing that I could do nothing about it if I wanted to remain punishment, or death free.

"Aren't you going to do somezing about it, Courtney?" I shook my head no, not even looking at her. Of course I could do nothing about it! Hadn't she learned that by now? She'd been here for a week, hadn't somebody taught her the rules?

"And why not?" she questioned after my blatant response. It was such an innocent question, yet I couldn't help but internally reprimand her for it. What a naive, foolish girl. If I dared say something about it, it could cost me my life. Although, telling her to do something about it was a tempting suggestion.

"Because. Now, continue to make dinner unless you want to get in trouble." She huffed and continued to mangle the poor potatoes. But the guards didn't leave. In fact, the came inside and started to make vulgar comments. I simply ignored them, and the pathetic, wimpy looks Jacqueline shot me.

"What's going on here?" a voice a recognized all too well asked. Jacqueline and I both turned around, hoping that this authority figure would stop the ogling from the other german guards. But Duncan wasn't looking at me, he was looking entirely at Jacqueline. He gave her the same look he gave me when we were alone, only much kinder, and as if he were much more attracted to her. This couldn't be happening. Especially not after last night. Tears were building up in my eyes, watching the two of them, but I refused to let any of them fall. How could this have happened to me? Before I could stop myself I had let out a small whimper and I had dropped the porcelain bowl of potatoes, the glass shattering everywhere and all the potatoes, now ruined as the floors hadn't been washed yet, rolled about everywhere.

Before I knew what was happening about three pairs of rough arms were clutching me and pulling me outside. I heard Jacqueline scream, but it was no use. Nobody could stop the guards. I closed my eyes and prayed silently, hoping with all my heart that I wouldn't be dragged off to the gas chambers. I heard some rough german being spoken, and I was dropped to the ground for a second before only one pair of rough arms were clutching my shoulders tightly.

"What was that?" Duncan growled, spinning me around furiously and glaring down at me with cold eyes.

"I-I'm sorry..b-but you, and Jacqueline-"

"So that was Jacqueline? She is really pretty...and she's not a jew..." he trailed off, staring blankly into space, not really looking at me anymore. I couldn't believe it, he was falling for her too! How could he? Why was I feeling this way in the first place? Duncan was a no good soldier, he should mean nothing to me. In fact, I should be glad that he was taking interest in a different girl. He would leave me alone, and I would be free. But I didn't feel that way, and I didn't know why. Upon taking notice of me again, he scowled and shook his head, most likely clearing his mind.

"Just, go back to work. Clean up the mess you made, and try to be a good girl, alright?" I could barely nod mutely as he kissed my cheek and walked away. I walked back to the kitchen, feeling numb as hell. What had just happened? Jacqueline hugged me with joy, but I couldn't pay attention to her. Work was a blur, I could barely remember anything except for the sharp moment when Duncan stared into Jacqueline's eyes. He couldn't be attracted to her, he just couldn't. It wasn't fair, he's mine. Mine and not hers. I was able to calm myself down and force myself to look at reality. He was probably just stunned by her beauty, everybody was. Even I was at first. Relaxing in the slightest, I walked to my barracks, looking forward to seeing Duncan.

I would let him hug me until my bones would break, and then I would kiss him all over, showing him how much I craved his company. After some idle talk he would force me down on his bed and rape me, despite my weak protests. Maybe today I wouldn't protest; I needed, no, I craved his attention. I sat on my shelf, prepared to wait the few minutes it would take for the guard to come in and escort me. By the time the door barged I was ready to jump off my shelf, but I waited patiently.

"Commander Duncan wishes to see number 2947260 in his quarters immediately." My face turned blank as my body froze. That wasn't my number; it was nowhere close to my number. I watched with wide eyes as Jacqueline hesitantly walked to the door, and the soldier roughly tugged her out. I waited for hours, hopeful that another guard would come in and send me to Duncan. But no guard came. And Jacqueline didn't come back within a couple of minutes, or even an hour. But I remained waiting until long after the lights were out and everybody was asleep. No guard was coming for me. Duncan wouldn't see me tonight.

Feeling as if my heart weighed over thousands of kilograms, I moved myself into a sleeping position on my shelf, relieving myself of a couple of bitter tears. What could this mean? He wanted to see Jacqueline instead of me; he liked her better. She had managed to take him away from me, the one think I was certain she couldn't take away. Reprimanding myself felt like a gigantic slap to my face; shouldn't I have been happy? I was free of Duncan! He didn't want to see me anymore! I didn't have to be raped or beat up anymore! I should be happy, no, ecstatic.

But for some reason, I wasn't. For some reason, it hurt more than anything in the world. It hurt more than the first time Duncan had hit me. It hurt more than the first time I'd gotten whipped. It hurt more than my mother's betrayal, and it even hurt more than the first time Duncan had raped me. To prove my point, the tears ran faster and harder down my face, and I had to make a large effort to remain quiet.

What did this hurt mean? I couldn't be attracted to him, I couldn't. It would be a betrayal to everything I'd been raised to be against. It would betray my family, my morals, my ethics, my religion, and everything that I had ever said about him in the first place. Besides, I was a Jew, and he was a German; he would never see anything more of me other than scum. So, therefore, I could not be attracted to Duncan.

But the sinking feeling in my gut told me the exact opposite.


	11. Missing You

**Finally, it's finished. I honestly don't think there is any way you guys can forgive me for the late update. How to explain...let's see..._major_ writer's block to start off, then we had a freak power outage, and then all the chargers in our house died and I didn't have access to a computer for about two or so weeks, and now I've finally sat down and finished this. **

**I hope you guys like it. I worked really, really, really hard on this. **

**Enjoy ;)**

It was over two weeks since I'd seen Duncan. It was two weeks that Jacqueline saw him every single night, coming back to the barracks with small smiles on her face. Not seeing Duncan made me sick; literally. There wasn't a single day in these past two weeks where I hadn't woken up in the middle of the night, upchucking my guts out and crying, silently begging that I could have Duncan back. I wanted to rip Jacqueline's throat out every single time I laid my eyes on her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how she could steal him away from me so easily. I didn't care anymore about everything else she'd already stolen; my friends, my mother, my appearance. But Duncan? That was crossing the much too stretched out limit. He was _mine_ and I would have done anything to get him back.

I couldn't deny my feelings for Duncan any longer; I was deeply attached and attracted to him. He enamored me, captivated my heart from the very start. Well, it was definite that at the very start I could say that his appearance was very enticing, but I most certainly was not enamored with him. But, in a way, even back then, he had captivated my heart. Something about him had been deeply interesting, and I couldn't believe it had taken me so long to realize this.

As soon as I'd realized this startling fact, which was about a day ago, I knew I had to do something about Jacqueline. I knew that Duncan had once felt something for me, no matter how small that something was, but that something couldn't and wouldn't disappear easily. I needed Duncan back, I didn't care at what costs. The only problem was how I was going to tell him this, as he hadn't sent for me for over two weeks.

Sighing softly, I ran a hand over my stubbly head and flipped over on my shelf. Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. He was always on my mind, as I was honestly always missing him. What if I died tomorrow and I would never get the chance to tell him what I felt?

Pushing aside the obvious fear and revolt his very being gave me, I really couldn't believe what I felt for him. It almost felt like...love. The thought was ridiculously preposterous, and ironic, as the thought of being in love with a german who did nothing but make my life miserable and make sure it was for the worse was simply horrific. Yet, I didn't hate him anymore. I'd seen sides of him I was sure no one had ever seen before. I knew things about him that nobody else would have guessed belonged to him. The thought astounded yet terrified me at the exact same time.

What if Duncan really had gotten tired of me? Then what would I do? Unwanted tears and the unsettling feeling in my stomach returned as I hurriedly snatched my bowl from my side and jerked up to retch into it. After I was finished relieving myself, I lay back down and tried to ignore the smell along with the disturbing thought that had no doubt caused my nausea to stir. I couldn't think such thoughts. I had to be positive and think the best was going to happen.

Another pang of my stomach had me groaning and doubting myself immediately. Who was I kidding? I was never going to see Duncan again, and that was that. He was going to stay with Jacqueline forever and ever, and they'll get married, and have a beautiful little girl with his blue eyes and her curly auburn hair. And he would love her as I wished he loved me, and I would end up a pile of ash from being cremated by free will. That was to be the story of my life, as clearly fate had wanted it to end up this way. Unless I did something about it. Unless I did something, anything to prevent the inevitable.

Forcing my eyes closed and trying to ignore the feeling of nausea in my stomach, I tried to go to sleep. Sleep would help, sleep should help, or at least that's what I kept trying to convince myself. I knew my dreams would either be haunted by nightmares, or dreams about Duncan, none of which I really wanted at the moment. I could've done without sleep, but I knew that it wouldn't matter. The dreams would come either way, just another cruel act of fate.

I knew if I didn't do something about my situation soon, I would most certainly kill myself. I would personally do any infraction to get myself killed. Or better yet, I would walk myself down to the gas chambers merrily, and kill myself there. But that option was least likely, as I'm sure I wouldn't be given the pleasure to do that. I suppose I could find some barbed wire somewhere and manage to choke myself with it.

Sighing frustratedly, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter; I was pathetic. Here I was, talking about how I was going to kill myself. I hated myself then, I simply hated myself as I tried to close my mind for the night and shut myself down into four hours of sleep.

**o 0 O 0 o**

Another day, another chance to hear Jacqueline yammer on incessantly to the other girls. Biting back every single ounce of emotion I felt towards her, I curled my hands into fists as I washed the dishes. Why couldn't the little wench shut her mouth for _five freaking minutes_? The answer was clearly unknown as my presence in the room was ignored while Jacqueline yapped her trap on, and on, and on.

She talked about useless things, mostly about her mother and her old life. Apparently she didn't have as glamourous a life as I had originally assumed. Her mother worked four jobs back in France, just to put a roof over both of their heads. And she had a father, but he was left back in France because he managed to escape. According to her she missed him terribly, and I could only laugh bitterly to myself; she didn't know what really missing someone felt like.

What really ignited my interest was that she'd been raped, and had gotten pregnant by the age of fifteen. Of course she kept her son, but she had to leave him behind with a friend when she came here. His name was Jacques, and according to her, he was the most adorable three and a half year old she'd ever seen. He trailed around her like a lost puppy at all times. It still amazed me that she was almost two years older than me, despite her tiny figure and all around innocence.

Sometimes I enjoyed hearing about her child. He certainly was a delight to hear about, and it gave me hopes for my future child. Of course, I wanted both a boy and a girl, both with their father's eyes (as who wanted to have black eyes like mine? Nobody, that's who) and hopefully bright personalities, as mine used to be. I didn't plan to have children for many years though, something quite unlikely from where I had come from. By eighteen it was expected for a young woman to be married and with a baby on the way a couple of months after the wedding. Shaking my head of the ludicrous thought, I focused my mind on washing the dishes while listening to what Jacqueline had to say. This time she was encountering a small tale of when her son was begging her to have siblings.

I tuned out most of the story, partly lost in my work, but mostly lost in the world of daydreaming what my kids would look like. I could never get tired of the same image of my little girl with bright eyes and brown curls, begging me to brush her hair or to teach her the alphabet. It would be a happy day when I told my husband I was pregnant, that's for sure. After a while longer I decided to tune back into Jacqueline's story, only to hear that it was already over. Deciding it would be pointless to tune in at the moment, I tried to focus on the half-done dishes, only to hear a sentence that made my heart stop.

"Jacques is so like Duncan, so brash, yet so gentle and unknowing."

My heart clenched. She was talking about _him_. She was talking about Duncan, in public. How _dare_ she. I yearned to go right up to her and sock her right in the nose; but I couldn't. If a guard were to come in and see, I'd surely be sent off to be gassed, and this time Duncan wouldn't come to my rescue and save me. Even if he did magically show up, I bet he'd run straight to Jacqueline and ignore little old me. Sighing, I tuned my ears to full alert, listening to what more the cow had to say about Duncan.

"Ooh, Jacqueline! Somebody's in love!" I nearly collapsed; wouldn't that have caused a delightful scene? She was in _love_with him! This couldn't be! Duncan was mine! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! I turned m dinner-plate sized eyes towards the aforementioned girl, watching as she blushed and her words became flustered. The girls kept prompting her to talk, while I only wished that the dirty, scummy floor would swallow me up and consume me whole.

"Well," her young voice finally squeaked. "He is rather good in bed."

It would be a complete and utter lie if I said I didn't know what came over me in those five mere seconds I restrained myself from doing any harm. Anger; anger purely consumed my being completely. As soon as those five seconds were up, I lunged at her and began to beat every inch of her body. I didn't know why nobody stopped my rampage for at least thirty seconds; probably because of shock. I knew her face would never be as pretty as it once was. After about a good thirty seconds of pummeling Jacqueline's face, someone managed to pull me off of her and delivered a swift kick to my stomach and a punch to my face. I could feel the blood trickling down my lips, but I ignored it as I lunged for Jacqueline again.

She didn't know what she had coming, but after a good ten minutes of solid fighting, we both pulled back, breathing heavily and sustaining multiple injuries. I looked at her bruised face; the area around her left eye was red, signaling that it would soon turn into a black eye. Her lip was swollen and bleeding, and she had numerous scratch marks on her cheeks and forehead. I hoped her ego was as cut up as her face; I took the liberty of yelling every single curse I knew of at her, and I only wished that she had understood all of it.

"I'm not finished wiz you. Be at ze midden during ze evening break," she growled in my face, as I simply narrowed my eyes at her and nodded. I wasn't afraid of her, not in the least. If she wanted to fight, by all means, I would kill her. She stormed out of the kitchen, her 'friends' trailing behind her like she was the pack leader or something. It was then I realized that I had sustained my own injuries. Looking at myself through a shard of mirror I had salvaged, I groaned when I saw how swollen my lip was and that I would soon have my own black eye.

I spent five minutes of my time groaning and whimpering over my injuries, then went straight back to work. Nothing mattered right now, nothing at all, except work. I was fine, and I would be fine. Jacqueline had everything coming to her. How _dare_ she say that _my Duncan_ was good with _her_ in bed? He was mine dammit! And he would soon see it my way, if I had it my way.

Hours passed, minutes passed, and soon it was the evening. Walking to the midden, I took great pride that my stomach didn't clench once. I wasn't nervous; at all. It was either her, or me.

When I had reached the midden, she was standing there, waiting for me. I raised my fists, prepared to fight, but she stopped me with her words.

"What on earz do you want from me, Courtney! I don't understand what you 'ave against me!" Oh, if only she knew. Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out like vomit, disgusting me beyond belief.

"What do I want from you? You better take notes, because it's a long list. I want you to make a time machine, and get out of my life. You took away my mother, my friends, and Duncan! He was mine! Mine first! You can't just steal him from me! I don't care what you say! You took _everything_ from me! I hate you Jacqueline! You're beautiful, and smart, and everything I used to be!" I screamed, and by the end my throat was raw and I was breathing heavily. She only looked at me, no expression on her face; no sympathy, no anger, nothing. Then she turned on her heel, and walked towards the barracks, like I hadn't said anything.

Yet at night, she still went to him.

**o 0 O 0 o**

I missed her terribly, I could no longer deny it. I missed her kisses, her soft touches, the way my name rolled off her tongue so easily like she yearned to say it. I missed the way her body felt wrapped in my own, her soft hair, her warm smile and teasing eyes. She was no Jacqueline, that was for sure.

Why I still kept Jacqueline over Prinzessin was an unsolved mystery. It was true that Jacqueline complied to my requests without complaint, but it was more fun when Prinzessin tried to resist when I forced myself upon her. With Jacqueline I felt as if I was playing a part I was born to play, with Prinzessin, I was myself, needing to hide absolutely nothing from her. It could be I let her go to release the burden upon her. She was probably glad to have rid of me after all this time; the meager thought kept me awake at night, regretting my decision over, and over again.

_No, it's the right decision,_ I chastised myself for what would have been the millionth time this week. It had to be the right decision. I couldn't bear to put Prinzessin in any more danger than she was already. Besides, it's not like she enjoyed my company. She was probably ecstatic that she didn't have to see me anymore. Ecstatic that she wouldn't have to be raped or abused anymore. Ecstatic that she wouldn't have to see my face in her nightmares anymore.

Sighing a disappointed sigh, I flexed my beyond-tense back muscles. Jacqueline was just a meager replacement for Prinzessin; she would never, ever amount to what Prinzessin was, or how much she meant to me. Jacqueline's face was bony, and pale compared to Prinzessin's lush complexion and sparkling personality. Jacqueline's eyes were too eager to please, too desperate, too lovesick. Whereas Prinzessin's eyes were two pools of midnight, always taunting, always teasing.

Suddenly realization hit me like a giant smack to the face; like the kind my father used to deliver to me while he was drunk. Here I was obsessing over a girl's _eyes_? Who was I? What had been done to me?

_You're in love._

It couldn't be. Me? In _love_? No way, that was beyond impossible. I was the one person in the whole world who was the _least_ likely to fall in love. Love wasn't for me. Brief flings, and nights in bed was more than enough.

_No it isn't._

Yes it was. It had to be. I'd never felt anything more for Prinzessin than brief attraction, and tons of lust whenever appropriate. Besides, she was a Jew. I could never love her. It was impossible. I wasn't in love with her. I was completely and inevitably telling the truth when I say I'm not in love with her.

_Don't deny it. You love her._

I couldn't help but sigh at the comment. Maybe I was in love with her, not that I would ever tell her. Besides, hell would freeze over before she ever felt the same way about me. The miserable thought was soon interrupted by a girlish knock on the door. Sighing at what was to be another great act, I put on my most loving face as I opened the door for Jacqueline.

Into my arms she ran, and I kissed her head out of routine. She was too eager, too desperate. But instead of hurling her to the wall like I wanted, I imagined that she was my prinzessin. I looked at her the way I wished I could look at my Prinzessin, filled with love and light. But the look on her face put a frown upon mine and I caressed her cheek tenderly.

"Sweetheart...my darling, what's the matter?" Immediately guilt rushed into my system as I called her these names, and her face immediately turned into her owns, instead of Prinzessin's. My eyes widened as I took in her bruised and cut up features, and I quickly ushered her to my bed, running my thumb lightly over her bruised cheek.

"What the hell happened to you!" I asked, more out of curiosity than of worry. She took in a shaky breath as she shook her head, scooting away from me a bit.

"Duncan...I want you to tell me about Courtney. Who is she to you, and what you had before I came along." My eyes widened upon hearing Prinzessin's name. Why on earth would Jacqueline ask me something like that? Should I risk telling her the truth, or could I pass it off with a lie? Could I even begin to tell her about Prinzessin and what she meant to me?

"She...she's nothing, Jacqueline. That's none of your concern, you don't have to know."

"But Duncan, I do. I want you to tell me, now. I need to know." I sighed, frustrated that she was trying to tell me what to do. Who was she? She was a prisoner, and I was the soldier. I was in command. She had no right to tell me what to do. I stood up from my seat, and glared at her before turning away stubbornly.

"You have no right to tell me what to do. You don't need to know about my Prinzessin," I said, then quickly covered my mouth, not believing what I had just called Courtney outside of my mind. I turned back around and Jacqueline wasn't looking at me, she was looking at her hands.

"You don't really love me, do you?" she asked quietly, refusing to look up at me. No, no I didn't. The only person I could ever love was Courtney. Sighing, I sat next to Jacqueline, looking down at my lap. What better way to answer her than to tell her who my Prinzessin was.

"Courtney...she...she was what you are to me at the moment. She saw me everyday, and...I don't know what to tell you Jacqueline. What do you want to know? There's nothing to know! What I did was for the best, she'll be happier that way," I concluded, breathing heavily and not believing in my own words in the very least. Courtney...my one Prinzessin. Jacqueline would never be what my prinzessin was. Full of laughter, full of joy. Full of warmth that I missed so much I would've given anything to feel it again.

But it wasn't my place to want such things. She needed to be happy, and safe. And if abandoning her was the way to do it, let it be. My decision had to be the right one, it just had to. How could Prinzessin ever be happy with somebody like me? All I'd ever done to her was abuse her and torture her heart out. She could never be with me, much less be happy being with me.

"But Duncan, she isn't," she spoke, pausing to laugh softly. "She misses you. In fact, she was enraged at me today, and beat me up because of you. She wants you again. She zinks I've stolen you away from 'er," she continued quietly, while my eyes widened. Prinzessin...missed me? My decision wasn't for the best? Jumbled thoughts ran through my mixed up mind, but one thought stood out from the rest.

_She loves you too._

Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but my insides were screaming for joy and I couldn't keep the smile off my face. There was the smallest possibility that she loved me too, and that was good enough for me. Letting out a small chuckle, I took notice of my face flushing at the thought of me and Prinzessin being in love. Unfortunately, Jacqueline took notice of this and heaved a small sigh.

"You love 'er, don't you?" she asked quietly, and looking at her face I could tell there were tears brimming in her eyes. I couldn't deal with this, I didn't want to. All I wanted to do was to go to Prinzessin and pull her into my arms, and let her stay there for as long as she wanted. I refused to answer Jacqueline, for I didn't even know how to answer myself.

"That's none of your business, Jacqueline," I spat, shooting up and beginning to pace the room. What to do...what to do..Prinzessin was probably pissed as hell at me, and I had to get her to forgive me.

"Duncan? I...I...I'm sorry...for everyzing..but...I think she needs you..and you need 'er." Jacqueline murmured, and I knew her words were the truth. I needed her, and hopefully, she needed me in return. But I had no clue how to deal with her. I hated seeing Prinzessin cry; out of everything I hated, that was the least tolerable. I slumped on my bed, completely ignoring Jacqueline's presence.

"I don't know what to do," I murmured, mostly to myself as I ran a hand down my face.

"I want you to kill me. Or relocate me somewhere else. I don't want to be in ze way of you and Courtney anymore.." It wouldn't have been fair to kill her. After all, she did provide as a good distraction, and, she was the one to let me know about Prinzessin.

"You'll be relocated into a new camp by morning." She nodded beside me, and I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty that I had just used her in order to distract me from Prinzessin. Out of an apology, I turned around to face her and took her hands in mine before kissing her cheek apologetically.

"Jacqueline...I...I'm-"

"Zere's no need, Duncan. I understand...I'm...I'm just not ze right girl for you...Courtney is. She really needs you Duncan." I nodded absently, not really caring what she had to say anymore. I was finished with Jacqueline, for good. Prinzessin was the only one for me. After a bit of silence, I stood, lending a hand to Jacqueline. She accepted and I led her out of the room, putting her into a new group, about to leave for resettlement.

I couldn't care less about her now. I wanted to see my Prinzessin. But it wasn't until I'd gotten back into my room and settled into my bed before I realized something extremely crucial.

How on earth was I going to have a life with Prinzessin?


	12. Confessions

**Woohoo! Fast update! :D Good update! Many, many, many, many thanks to Alexex for helping me with this. Thanks also goes to heartandstar101, WritingIsAPoison, Professor Mads, and all the rest of you wonderful, lovely, amazing people.**

**Seriously, I am really, really honored. I went to my traffic a couple of days ago, and my eyes _popped_ when I saw that chapter 11 had _thirty_ reviews! Chapter 12 came in with _twenty-one!_ I was like "...when did this happen! I thought I only got like...eight reviews!" Wow...you guys...this is the thirteenth chapter, and only ten reviews away for 200. Let's see if we can top thirty reviews this time :D hahaha, jkjk, even though it would mean A TON if ever single person who reads this chapter, reviews. I YEARN to know what you people think of this chapter, because I worked excruciatingly hard on this. Hell, I worked on this THROUGH the DxG stuff! I was depressed, and I was STILL able to write DxC. Kinda feels a bit awkward now writing love scenes between them, and I know other authors feel the same way about this, but I'm never going to abandon this story ;) I promise you guys that. **

**But, let's see if we can top twenty reviews, pretty please! I really, really want to know what you think of this, because this is the moment we've all been waiting for.**

**Enjoy,**

**~ much love, Ariel**

Jacqueline never came back that night.

I pondered this on my shelf, the following evening. Maybe the guard had seen her injuries and sent her off to be gassed. Maybe she'd run away. Maybe she'd killed herself out of my favor. Or maybe Duncan finally got sick of her and kicked her sorry, scrawny butt out of his life and decided I was the only one for him. Although, reconsidering, I realized the latter was just my imagination speaking, and the thought was the furthest from reality.

What reason would Duncan have to get rid of Jacqueline? There was none I could think of; she was beautiful, and kind, and loving, and most likely gave in and enjoyed whenever he had sex with her. What wouldn't I have given or done to have Duncan back. I would've gladly had sex with him every single night, or doted on him in every way possible; that's how much he meant to me.

Sighing, I ignored the chatter of the other women and flipped over on my shelf. It was a wonder why nobody had yet blamed me for Jacqueline's absence. Maybe it was because of the rumor going around that she had been relocated. I hoped that it wasn't just a rumor, but the truth, as if Jacqueline was gone, Duncan would definitely send for me again...right?

Who was I kidding? The man had obviously gotten sick of me and was probably off, looking for some other, prettier broad to gallivant with. Oh, there was no words alive to even begin to comprehend my jealousy then. I was sure my face turned green every night, just thinking about all the girls Duncan could be spending time with, that's how envious I was of them.

Never once until that moment had it occurred to me that I should be not longing for Duncan, but angry at him. I mean, he _did_ tell me that I mattered the most to him. And time, and time again he would tell me how special I was to him. With a miserable groan I realized how incredibly stupid I was to believe him. I was a toy! A stupid toy! Of _course_ he wouldn't keep me around forever; there was always going to be someone prettier, or bustier, or more loving and doting than me.

But the anger only lasted for a couple of minutes before the self-pity kicked back in. I couldn't stay angry at Duncan. It was his choice not to want to see me, and I would just have to live with it, no matter how hard it would be.

Suddenly I lurched up and vomited again-grabbing my bowl in the nick of time-much to my displeasure. The noise, and smell, made people stare, and they wrinkled their noses in disgust; but whether it was from the vomiting, or the person who was doing it, I couldn't tell. Wiping my foul tasting mouth, I yearned for a breath mint, even though it has been long over a year since I'd had the privilege to have one. Those days seemed so long ago, so different. It was hard to believe that I had once been that same, happy, carefree girl, with no worries or responsibilities other than getting married when the time came.

Snorting at the thought, I knew that there was probably to be no wedding in my future. Who would marry me anyways? The only person who I wished to marry would be-wait a minute. I couldn't believe I was had almost thought that. Me? Marry _Duncan_? I scoffed at the idea. Like he would ever want to get married to the likes of me; much less have a child. He'd probably throw the poor baby to the wall if it didn't stop crying, and once she, or he got older...I shuddered at the mere thought.

Yet...my conscious told me to think otherwise. I knew how sweet Duncan could be, not to mention slightly soft, at times. Maybe Duncan would like our baby. Maybe he would treat him, or her with love, and adoration, and respect and-again, I had to stop myself. Here I was, thinking about having a _kid_ with Duncan. The man didn't even _like_ me, let alone _love _me, or like me enough to even make love to me.

Somebody giving me a slap to my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts, as I turned angrily to face my offender. The teen merely rolled her eyes and angrily pointed to the guard at the door, making my eyes narrow in annoyance. He probably came for Jacqueline, wondering where she was so she can do her duties to Duncan, I noted dully, rolling my eyes. Why was I to be notified of this then? I wanted nothing to do with that wretched wench.

"Is number _J17492_ here or not?" I rolled my eyes once more; of course Jacqueline wasn't her-wait a minute. That was _my_ number. Not Jacqueline's. Without letting my mind ask the numerous questions that it wanted to, I shakily walked up to the guard and stood straight. "Are you number _J17492_?" I meekly nodded, and next thing I knew I was being shoved out the door. I knew better than to ask questions or to voice any protests with this guard.

There were two possible options for the circumstance I was in. One, the one least likely, yet the one I wanted the most, was that I was going to finally see Duncan. The thought put butterflies inside my stomach, but I brushed them aside nervously. The thought was far from reality, just my wishful thinking being completely unhelpful in this situation.

The other option, and was much, much closer to reality, was that I was being sent to be gassed, for _something_ that I did. Maybe it was my constant upchucking disturbing the 'peace' in the barracks. Maybe it was my injuries; some guard was bound to notice, and since I wasn't the perfect picture of health, i was sent to be exterminated. Eyes widening, I realized that somebody could have tipped off the guards about Jacqueline and mine's fight, resulting in the extermination of both of us. No wonder she hadn't come back; she was dead. She was dead, it was all my fault, and now I was to be paying for it with my life.

I bit back tears in my eyes at the thought that I was finally getting my wish; I was going to die. I didn't deserve to cry or feel unhappy at this predicament. My pleads to God had finally been heard; I was going to die. After all this time...I was going to die; without even getting to see Duncan one last time. Why did God choose to grant me _this_ particular wish, instead of the one where I begged to see Duncan again, and that he would take me back? Because I was a selfish, sinful, undeserving human being, who had done more wrongs in my life than rights, that's why.

I kept walking with slow, jittery steps, trying to slow my death as much as possible. I didn't even pay attention to the way we were going, I simply looked at my feet the whole time. I held my breath and shut my eyes closed tightly when the guard shoved a door open and pushed me inside. This was it. This was the accursed gas chambers that I had heard about, dreamt about, fantasized about so frequently. I kept my eyes shut tight as my breathing became choppy and labored.

_Goodbye dear world. _

"Prinzessin?" a voice I knew, all to well, greeted, and my heart went into complete lockdown. I was dead...I had to be. And somehow, I had made it to heaven. And I was seeing Duncan. Hell, I was dead.

"Oh god...oh god...I'm dead..." I started to hyperventilate, thinking I really was dead. I couldn't be alive, not in this situation. There was absolutely no chance my dreams had come true and I was actually seeing Duncan. Yet...I could smell the familiar scent of Duncan all around me. But I refused to open my eyes, I didn't want to believe it. it couldn't be...it just couldn't be.

But, in the end, curiosity overruled reluctance and I slowly opened my eyes, only to find myself face to face with the one man that had been on my mind every five seconds throughout these past few weeks. Looking into those worrisome blue orbs, I suddenly felt very foolish.

"Prinzessin..." he spoke once more, and my insides fluttered just a smidgen. Why was I here? Why wasn't I dead? He quickly closed the gap between us, and examined my face, running his thumb over my black eye gently. I didn't dare wince, or hiss, or show any sign of pain like I wanted to; I wouldn't give him the pleasure. Here he was, acting like everything was back to normal again, when clearly, it wasn't. Not in the very least. Finally, the man spoke again. "Jacqueline didn't say that you had gotten hurt too."

My insides froze. Jacqueline...told Duncan...about our fight? That I had jumped on her because of him? I could feel my face flush out of embarrassment as I stepped back from his comforting touch.

"Wh-what did she tell you?" I stammered, hoping to god she'd just said that we had gotten beaten by some guard. If Duncan knew...I'd be ruined. My cover would be blown. He would know that I was jealous, and then _demand_ that I never see him again, all because I was some desperate girl, already in love with him. I couldn't bear to look at him; he would know, he would know everything, just by looking into my eyes. From the corner of my eye I could see him stare at me with the strangest expression on his face; I couldn't quite tell what it was, but I'd never, ever seen it on his face before.

"She said that you two had gotten into a fight over chores. I could tell by her injuries that you had won...but I didn't know that you had gotten hurt too." I exhaled silently, thanking God that he hadn't found out the truth. I still couldn't look at him though; I couldn't have him finding out anything. For all I knew, this could be the last time I was to ever see him. And if it was, I didn't want to leave, feeling heartbroken because he wouldn't return my preposterous, puerile feelings.

We stayed in an awkward silence for awhile, neither of us really knowing what to say. This annoyed me slightly; we hadn't seen each other for two weeks... and we both had nothing to say. I felt I had to break the silence. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet none seemed appropriate at the moment. Coughing slightly and turning away, I prepared myself to say what had been bugging me the most.

"Why...why am I here, Sir?" I said quietly, not bothering to look at him. Despite all that I had been feeling the past few weeks, I was most certainly not happy at the moment. I felt, awkward, strange. Like I wasn't really wanted here. If Duncan had truly missed me, I was certain that there would have been a bright smile on his face when he first saw me, instead of that strange, worried expression.

"What do you mean? Aren't you happy to be here?" Not really. I guess, as soon as I was wrapped in his arms I would be happy, hopefully. It seemed as if he was nervous as I was at the moment; both of us trying not to trigger negative emotions in the other being.

"You haven't answered my question." I heard him sigh shakily from behind me, confirming my previous thoughts that he was nervous.

"Can't I see you every now and then?" I knew it. That's all I was to him, a stupid, replaceable toy. He didn't have any stable, real feelings towards me. It was all just a fling to him. I didn't mean more to him than a simple, one-night fling; just for the sex. And as soon as someone better came along, he would replace me with someone different.

"I thought you were done with me," I spat quietly. "I thought you got tired of your old toy, and replaced it with a newer, nicer-looking one." I didn't dare turn to look at him; the only thing I would allow myself was a quick glimpse through my peripheral vision. I could tell that he looked confused, which only raised the same emotion within me-not like I really needed anymore within my jumbled up head.

"You...sound upset. Like you aren't happy to see me." In truth, maybe I was a bit delighted to see him; yet I could completely say that I was utterly relieved. And, if it was to be the last time that I would ever see him, the least I wanted to do was to be able to tell him what was exactly on my mind; with a bit of payback on my part, for making me worry so much about him within the past couple of weeks.

"Of course I'm upset. You think it's...it's okay to just _leave_ me like that! To make me think that you didn't want me anymore! Like I was just your plaything, after _everything_ we'd been through! And you ask if I'm _happy_ to see you! Why on earth would I be happy to see you! What could _possibly_ make you think that!" With every lie I spoke I felt tears prick in the backs of my eyes; thank god he couldn't see my face, otherwise he would know that I was lying for sure. Oh, how my half lies stung me on the inside. Who knew how Duncan would react to this. I wouldn't have been surprised if he threw me to the floor, beat on me for a while, then tear off my clothes and rape me within the next five seconds.

_5_

_4_

_3_

_2_

_1-_

"Prinzessin...I...I didn't know...I didn't think you would be so angry...because from what I've heard...," he trailed off, leaving a new crop of questions to harvest in my mind. What did he hear? And from who? Jacqueline...she couldn't have told him anything, she couldn't have. And she most likely wouldn't have. Why would she waste anytime 'in bed' with Duncan, talking about me? It didn't make any sense.

"W-what did you hear?" I asked hesitantly, unsure what the answer would be. I almost didn't want to hear his answer, in case I was beyond embarrassed. Just thinking of all the things Jacqueline could have told him, my face flushed red from embarrassment. His hesitation and slow pacing only quickened my heartbeats in anxiety.

"I didn't hear much...just...," he paused, sending me into a panic mode. This was it. He knew _everything_. I would have no hope of him returning my feelings now. "I heard that a certain Prinzessin was miserable...and that she missed me."

My eyes went wide upon hearing this, along with the bitter tears that rose up in my eyes. Just thinking about how miserable I was without him made me feel terrible. Trying to blink away the tears, I took notice of what he'd just said to me. Jacqueline...told him that I missed him? Was there anything she _didn't_ tell him? I couldn't let him know it was the truth; this time, _I_ would be the one in control.

"Who in their right mind would say something as preposterous as that?" I said, then sniffled, trying to get rid of the building tears, again. Suddenly I was flipped around, strong arms encircling my waist ever so slightly. Looking up, I realized I was face to face with the one man who had been pulling on the strings of my heart since the first I laid eyes on him. He cupped my chin gently, forcing me to continue looking at him for as long as he wished.

"I've also heard...," he continued, ignoring whatever I'd said to him a mere few seconds ago. "That a certain little Prinzessin started a fight, because she was jealous, and angry at another girl...and the fight was about a certain man..." My eyes widened as they darted around, trying to look anywhere besides Duncan's piercing eyes. Jacqueline _did_ tell him! Oh, how much I felt like a fool at that moment. Absolutely ridiculous. If he knew that, he knew everything! Now I was certainly guaranteed that he didn't return a single ounce of my feelings, and more so, I was a desperate, lovesick fool.

"Th-that's not true," I stammered, trying to cover myself up. "That's a lie. An outright lie. You should know better than to listen to camp gossip, it could turn you into a maniac." That last part was true, but I wasn't so sure he was buying the rest of my statement. His eyes appraised me for a couple more seconds, settling on a slightly hurt expression.

"Really. Well then, that's a shame," he finally said, letting go of my chin and turning away from me. What had I done? I'd just blown every chance I had of being with him, that's what I'd done.

"It's a shame...because I greatly missed that certain prinzessin." My breath halted; he...he'd missed me? _Duncan_ missed me? Duncan missed _me_? I repeated the question over and over again in my head, trying to convince myself that those words had just come out of his mouth. What could this possibly mean? And...if he'd missed me, why had he stayed with Jacqueline for so long? Why hadn't he called me up here sooner?

"You're a liar," I accused, turning away from his back as well.

"When have you ever known me to lie? As far as I've known, I have always been straightforward with you." I thought about it for awhile. Had Duncan really ever lied to me? Thinking about it...he hadn't. Not in the very beginning, not while we were spending time together...Maybe he wasn't lying to me. I honestly didn't know. Only one way to find out.

"You...you have. You've never lied to me, Sir," I mumbled bitterly, trying to find even the tiniest loophole. Suddenly I remembered; I remembered on that first time he'd raped me. He promised me that I was his, and nobody else's. He said I would be his forever. And if he took Jacqueline...it meant that he lied when he said that I was his.

"That's right. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't make up preposterous stories about-"

"I take it back. You _have_ lied to me." I turned around angrily, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to face me. "You told me that I was yours! _You never said anything about Jacqueline! _It was only supposed to be me! Not her!" I yelled at him, my face twisted up in an expression of fury. He appraised me once more for a couple of moments, before that unreadable expression came back to grace his features.

"Whoever said I lied back then?" An aggravated sound escaped my mouth as I huffed and turned away from him. He didn't understand; he would never, ever understand.

"You're denying it! I can't believe you! So what now? Is _Jacqueline_ your new interest? Is she yours now too? Well congratulations!" I spit out angrily, turning around once more to face him. "I can not believe you have the audacity to lie to my face about not lying to me! I can't believe you! I can't believe I ever trusted you! And to think, I thought that you would get over Jacqueline within a couple days, or even a week! I was wrong. To think, that maybe, just maybe, you felt the tiniest bit guilty, or missed me in the slightest. I was wrong. And to think, that you weren't a selfish, greedy, German _monster_. But yet again, you've proved me wrong. I guess I was just too blinded by my imagination, and your previous actions, to even take a glimpse of reality.

"But I get it now. You are a _monster_! A monster who likes to tantalize with my feelings!" I watched as his face faltered, taking on an expression of slight anger. I knew I was pushing my limit, and I wanted to see how far he would go before he ended up hurting me. I took another step forward, so we were face to face and he could see the tears lingering in my eyes. I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt. I wanted him to suffer like I did. I wanted him to know how it was to be miserable.

"Do you even know how much...how much you've hurt me?" I choked, refusing to look away from him like I yearned to. I could feel even more tears rising as I said this miserable sentence. And then, he had the audacity to give me a face, that said he didn't believe a single word I'd just said. "Don't give me that look. You hurt me. _You hurt me!_" I screamed, beyond aggravated. The words were tumbling out again, like vomit, and it wouldn't stop until everything was out of my system.

"Do you know how much I worried! How much I've stressed! How you made me physically sick with worry!" I didn't dare say how much I missed him, for there was virtually no point. "A-and this all happened, all this disgusting mess...because of that wretched hure!"

"You knew I couldn't stand her! You knew that! Yet you took her over me anyways!" I screamed in his face, jabbing a finger in his chest accusedly every now and then. "Why on earth would you take her!" At this sentence he tried to cut in, but I started up again before he could. "Oh, wait, I know this answer! It's because she's better than me! At _everything_! She can cook better than I can, clean better than I can, even talk, and laugh, and sing better than I can, for crying out loud! She's far more beautiful than me, I mean look at me!" I paused to point to myself angrily. "Who on earth would ever consider wanting me, when there's a Jacqueline, right around the corner!" I yelled, spitting her name out like venom.

"She took everything away from me! My looks, my brains, my charm, my elegance, even my own mother! But...most importantly...she took _you_ away from me. And that's what hurt me the most. She went around, talking like she was in love with you, and how special you were to her, and even how good you were in bed! That should be me, Duncan! That should be me, because you are _mine_! How did you not understand that! From the very beginning: I am _yours_, and in return, you are _mine_! But no, you didn't get that concept; i was just a mere play toy. And you got tired of that play toy; she was too worn, from mental and physical abuse. So, then you felt the need to replace her! With some, cheap, clingy, untrustable, hure! How could you! There was nothing wrong with the old toy! She was fine, she loved spending time with you! She loved being played with! Just a little fixing up, and proper care, and she would've looked like new!

"But, of course, you don't give a damn to what I think or care about. No, of course not. Nobody does anymore. I know, this isn't my home, this is some brutal death camp...but I thought we had something! Something, at least, remotely worthwhile...but, once again, I'm proven wrong," I murmured sadly, looking straight into his mixed up orbs.

"So thank you, for finally giving me enough reason, to kill myself. I've had enough; do you want to do the honors and shoot me, or would you prefer walking me to the gas chambers? Oh, I know, how about you just escort me to some loose barbed wire, and watch as I choke myself to death! Or, you could stab my heart, I think there's a tiny little corner in the back that still remains unscathed. So, say your goodbyes now, because by morning, I'll be _gone_. And you'll never have to see me again." I stayed there, gasping for air, chest rising up and lowering dramatically. Was I serious? Was I really going to kill myself? I knew the real answer; yes, yes I was. I turned away from him in the nick of time, as tears escaped my eyes and ran down my face like no tomorrow, and sobs escaped my mouth repeatedly. I sobbed into my hands, knowing that this would be my last night on this cruel, cruel planet. Before I knew it I was quietly cursing in every language I could think of.

"Prinzessin..." a soft voice spoke from behind me, and to my alarm, it was getting nearer. I feverishly stepped away from the voice, refusing to let it control me any longer.

"Don't call me that!"

"Darling...my Courtney...please..." he retorted, trying to sound comforting. I only stumbled backwards, yelling at him to get away from me while continuing my pathetic sobs. Why was he only making me feel worse? And why could I feel my stomach flutter when he called me such affectionate nicknames?

"Sweetheart..I...I never knew you felt that way..., please, let me back it better." Like he could ever make it better. I pushed him away again, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around him and bawl into his chest.

"Channa-" I didn't know whether it was the name, or the thought of Duncan saying it, but I lost it. I screamed like I never had before, like something was taking over me. My life was out of control. I had no way of being able to control it. Before I knew what was happening, my body was crushed against another, my head guided towards a rapidly breathing chest. I pounded on his chest with my fists and screamed, trying to get Duncan to let go of me. After two minutes of my fruitless efforts, I merely gave up and just bawled into his chest. He comforted me by murmuring, "don't cry, there's nothing to be upset about. You're safe, I'm here for you," repeatedly in my ears, along with rubbing his hand tenderly along the back of my head.

"Do...do you really feel that way Prinzessin? That you want to kill yourself because you feel I betrayed you? That you have nothing else?" I nodded, continuing to sob into his chest. What was the point in lying anymore? Everything was out in the open. The only thing I hadn't told him, was that I loved him. But I would be sent to hell before i told him that.

"H-how long, exactly, have you felt this way?"

"Ever s-since, t-that wench laid her eyes on you..and that night..." I broke down into sobs again, merely thinking of the first night she had went to him. His hands were consoling me again, numbing me with their gentle touch.

"You don't need to worry about her anymore. I...I sent her away." My head snapped up, looking straight at him with teary eyes. "Y-you did what?"

"I sent Jacqueline away from here. She'll never bother you, or me, or us ever again." Now I was really confused. Why would he send Jacqueline away? I thought he loved her back...or...hopefully, maybe he sent her away, because of me. Maybe he loved me.

"W-why would you send her away? She's so perfect..she's beautiful, and loyal, and loving, and always follows the rules-"

"And she's also spoiled, and greedy, and lovesick, and desperate, and clingy. Nothing compared to you." My heart fluttered as I looked into his honest eyes. I could tell he was serious, I didn't have to ask whether it was the truth or not. I buried my head further into his chest and breathed in his missed scent; a mix of alcohol, aftershave, and, just plain Duncan.

"Why did you keep her then? For so long?" I asked quietly, wrapping my arms around his slim waist.

"Because I thought it would be better for you," he replied, running his hand through what hair I had slowly. I looked up at him, a look of confusion upon my face. How could he possibly think that I could be happy without him? I'd just told him how much I missed him for crying out loud!

"How could it have been better for me?" I asked curiously, bringing my arms up to his neck and wrapping them around it slowly, my fingers playing with the little bit of hair he had.

"I thought you would be happier...if you didn't have to see me. I didn't know...back then..." I sighed, removing my hands. "I hope you know that isn't true. I did just let you know, in detail, how miserable I'd been without you..." he chuckled and removed his hands from around me, crossing them across his chest.

"Yes, I did pay attention to some parts." I raised my eyebrows at him; he had to be joking.

"Like what?"

"Like how you want to kill yourself. And how you're insanely jealous of Jacqueline." I scrunched up my nose, hoping he was going to continue. "Anything else, Duncan?"

"Hmm...Nope. That's about it." I glared at him, lowering my eyes when I saw that he was serious. "You, are impossible," I growled, resisting the urge to slap his smirking face. "You don't remember _anything_ else?" He chuckled then, his expression hardening and taking upon a look of slight anger.

"Yes. I remember another detail quite well. I, am a monster. A monster of the worst kind," he said, his tone playing out as half joking, yet quite angry.

"Well, it's true," I growled in return, making his expression turn angrier. Out of the frying pan, and into the oven.

"Yes Prinzessin. I am such a _monster_, because I was trying to look out for your happiness. I am such a _wild beast_, because I was only thinking of what was best for you. I am an _inhumane jackass_, because I _care_ about you!" he yelled at me, scaring me slightly. Yet, he cared about me?

"You...care about me?" I asked softly, trying to bring him down from his tirade.

"Yeah," he paused to chuckle bitterly. "But I'm so much of a _monster_, it probably doesn't matter."

"You...you can't care! You took away my innocence!"

"Oh, so now we're back to that again. Okay, well two can play at that game! _You_ were a _hure_!" Just thinking of Yaacov made my heart swell in pain. He knew that was a sensitive topic for me, yet he brought it up anyways.

"You made my life even more of a living hell!"

"You broke the rules!"

"You broke _me_!"

"You _hurt_ me!"

"Well you hurt me even more!"

"You made me miserable!"

"Oh really! Then why do you want me, and not Jacqueline! She obviously made you happy!" I screamed at him, more tears leaking out of my eyes as I strained my already-sore throat even more. Both of us were breathing heavily after our argument. Maybe we weren't compatible. Maybe we would never work out. But that was a chance that I was willing to take.

"I meant...I was miserable when you were gone," he breathed out, lightly gasping for air. Panting, I gave him a confused expression. "You...you were?" He nodded in response, refusing to look at me. After a few moments he went over to his bed and sat down, rubbing at his temples furiously. "Duncan..." I tried, taking a step closer to him. He merely pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Not now, Courtney. I'm very, very frustrated right now, and I'm trying not to take it out on you and hurt you. I've had enough for tonight, you can go back now." I nodded miserably, even though I yearned to tell him how happy I was just to be near him. Sighing, I turned and headed for the door. But upon opening it, I was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and yanked back inside, making the door slam. I crashed into Duncan's chest, and somehow, he managed to maneuver both of us to the bed, with him on the bottom, and with me, resting comfortably on top of him. I became slightly flustered at our position, but I remained silent, letting my eyes speak for me. Duncan and I gazed at each other for hours, days, decades; but finally, our lips managed to meet, and melted together into one, perfect kiss. Not too rough, not sour tasting, just, perfect.

I pulled away first, slightly confused. Only a couple of minutes ago he was telling me to leave, and now, he was kissing me like I was truly his. His hand came up to caress my cheek, and I leaned forward into the compassionate touch.

"Jacqueline may be a lot of things, but since she lay a putrid finger on you, and harmed you," he paused to tenderly kiss my black eye, and I couldn't help but whimper. "Then, that girl must truly be as horrid as you said she was." I smiled and pressed my lips against his once more, getting used to synchronicity of our lips moving together. It felt perfect, just then and there; us, together.

He was the one to pull away this time, and he cupped my face gently. "You're something special, Prinzessin, you know that?" I shook my head no, and he chuckled and kissed my cheek in response. "I can't live without you, I hope you know that now, Courtney." I nodded this time, and kissed him all around his face, knowing he liked that the best.

"I am yours, and you, are mine," I said softly, smiling down at him.

"And that's all that matters." Our lips met yet again, and we kissed for awhile, until he broke away and started to plant kisses along my jawline. I started to breath raspily, both from the sensation his kisses were giving me, and from the lack of air from our kisses.

"There's no need to be nervous, Prinzessin. I promise, you'll enjoy it this time. You'll enjoy it every time, I swear. But this time, I'm asking your permission. Just tell me yes, and you won't regret it." I knew what he meant, and the simple thought brought joyous tears into my eyes. He wanted to make love to me, and he was asking for my permission-for once-to do so. I nodded happily, but chose to answer anyway.

"Y-yes, Duncan. Yes." He began to kiss along my bod again, slowly taking off my sweater, then my dress in the process. I was feeling pure bliss, and excitement for what was to come. It wasn't going to hurt this time...this time, it would be pure joy, and bliss.

_I love you, Duncan._

_And I know, that deep down, you love me too._

**Yeah...bet you were thinking they were gunna confess their love to one another, didn't ya? Hee, hee. Nah, that's saved for a later chapter (maybe, two, or three more) and it will be very heartfelt. **

**Anyways! Review please!**

**~ Ariel**


	13. Can This Really Work Out?

**Hello guys :D I'm back from my mini vacation. But I bear some upsetting news. School starts tomorrow, so I have no clue how my writing schedule will be like. I will try my hardest to get a chapter to you at least once a week, or even once every two weeks. God forbid another four month wait...**

**Anyways, I've managed to find the love to continue writing this story, despite all of the Duncan and Gwen disaster going around. I have come up with a simple solution. You see, I am going to simply erase TDA and TDWT from my memory. It's simple, really. I just remember all of the good DxC, and I'm fine. A couple of days ago, I was watching the alternate ending of TDI, where Gwen wins. And I was like...shocked. Back then, the show was so sweet, and innocent, and down to earth. Then I watched episode 14 of TDA. ANd I was SHOCKED. Courtney was a BITCH! Not that I didn't know this before, but I was so used to her from TDWT. And...I just want to say that they should've never made two more seasons, because it ruined nearly all the good characters, and ruined all the relationships.**

**But that's just my thought :p**

**Anyways, I've stopped watching TDWT since Chinese Fake Out, only watching the aftermath (TOTAL DISAPPOINTMENT...Despite the kick ass song) and the episode where Sierra gets out. I'll probably watch the ending and the one hour special too. But hell, if there is not the original cast, I am not even going to THINK about watching the fourth season.**

**Now, back to the story!**

**The idea for this chapter came from I'mheretosuggest. Thanks Hunny!**

**Now for a review reply...and DAMN thirty two reviews! I am shocked! Let's see if we can top that! :D Pretty please?**

**MentionedInHere- Yes! You can draw it :D :D**

**On the topic of drawing, guitarNrd362 drew an AMAZING pic for this story! Go check it out! It's on her Deviantart page. and It'll be worth your time!**

**Now, onto the chapter! :D**

"Prinzessin..." he crooned, stroking my cheek lovingly. I sighed in content, focusing on nothing more than the blissful state of euphoria I was in at the moment.

"Yes, Duncan?" I trilled softly, loving the way his eyes lit up after I spoke.

"Are you ready for the night of your life?" he asked softly, looking deep into my eyes. I felt I could just stay here forever, in Duncan's arms. I didn't need anything more; just him, and me, together, and life would be complete. In fact, future goals hurled aside, I didn't mind if I died right here, right now. I would be at complete and utter peace.

"Trust me...it's been quite an adventure already. Is there more?" I asked, rather foolishly, having asking for nothing more than being in his arms. I was deeply grateful enough as it was, and I didn't dare spoil the moment by asking for selfish pleasures. Duncan chuckled lightly at my question, stroking my hair in a soothing manner.

"Why, yes, Darling; I haven't even made love to you yet." I giggled, having forgotten completely about that part. He'd been previously entertaining me with his gentle kisses and alluring touches that made me shiver and squeal in delight all over. I loved when he kissed my repeatedly, all over my body, saying, 'I'm sorry' right before each and every one of his kisses. I had distracted myself by simply stroking his hair and urging him to continue. But those were pushing my gratuity to the limit. I hadn't actually thought that he would commit to making love to me tonight.

"Well then, I suggest you get right to it, before the guards notice that I'm not screaming from pain no longer," I tried to joke, my voice coming out soft and strange-sounding. I still wasn't honestly sure if he would make love to me. I didn't entirely believe him to be so generous without asking for anything in return; it was just the way he was. His hands reached my face, cradling it gently before kissing my cheeks repeatedly. Nothing in the world could compare to the pure happiness I felt right then and there.

"The door is locked. The walls are soundproof. And they believe the cockamamie stories I tell them at breakfast." I giggled again, cuddling up to my forbidden lover, who merely hugged me tighter.

"Well, then, I guess we'll have to do the opposite of those stories tonight."

o 0 O 0 o

Water splashing all over me had snapped me out of my euphoric flashback. Head snapping up, I caught the annoyed glare of a girl who continued to place dishes into the full sink. I hadn't even noticed I'd been staring off into space, reminiscing about Duncan and mine's real first time-as I'd refused to look back upon any sexual encounters besides the previous one we'd recently shared as my 'first' time. Shaking my head-on the inside, of course-to clear my thoughts, I continued my previous task of washing dishes, unable to stop my wandering mind.

The past two weeks with Duncan had been...magical, to say the least. I could no longer deny the fact that I loved him. I just had to find the right time to tell him; soon, soon I would tell him, I decided. Hopefully it would be a joyous occasion, filled with invigorating cheer and a heated love-making session afterwards.

Oh, how perfect life was for me at the moment. I didn't even care that I was half-starved, and half-sick. I was certainly coming down with something, that was for sure. The constant upchucking was slowing down, but it just wouldn't stop. I blamed the weather, and the food. I knew the potatoes were old, and the broth was far from fresh, yet I continued to eat it. Merely thinking about the poor condition of the food, made me cover my mouth as I dashed outside for relief. I upchucked into the grass, the vomiting barely lasting more than three-seconds. I didn't have much to hurl anyway. Walking back into the kitchen, I resumed my task, letting my mind wander off again.

"Shh, Prinzessin. just let it all out," Duncan crooned softly into my ear as I continued to upchuck into his wastebasket. He rubbed my back gently with one arm, supporting me with the other. I lifted my head up slowly, feeling weak and repulsive as ever. I could barely stand; even though his arm was supporting me, I was so out of it I slumped to the floor, not even able to see straight anymore.

"Prinzessin?" he asked softly, crouching beside me. I couldn't even look at him properly; I was seeing double, my vision swaying left, and right, and left, and upside down. I closed my eyes, feeling lightheaded. Suddenly I wasn't on the ground anymore. I tried to force words to come out of my mouth, but all that came out was a strangled-sounding noise.

"Shh, it's okay. It's just slight food-poisoning; I'll take care of you, my Channa, don't you worry." I smiled on the inside after hearing these words and cuddled further into his arms. It was so easy to pretend nowadays that Duncan really was my husband, and I, his devoted wife. The way we acted around each other was so natural, so loving. It really was a wonder why neither of us could tell the other that we loved them.

He carried me to his bed and laid me down gently, tucking me into the warm blankets. In truth, this was the first time I'd fully been in his bed. Usually we would both be on top of it. And never had I fallen asleep in his bed. But now it was different; now, he was tucking me in gently and kissing my forehead in a loving manner, leaving me to my fantasies.

"Feeling a bit better, Darling?" he asked, true concern in his voice. I tried to say something, but my voice merely caught in my throat and his worry for me made goosebumps arise on my skin. He noticed and crawled on the bed next to me, wrapping his strong arms around my slim, shivering figure. He moved my head so it lay on his chest, and he rubbed my arms slowly. "You're freezing. Don't worry, I'll make you better, I just need to distract you….how would you like a story?" I nodded, enjoying his hands on my skin. Truthfully I was feeling much better, but damn my soul if I told him that. I enjoyed the position we were in at the moment too much to stop.

"Well...have I ever told you that my father remarried?" I shook my head no, eyes widening slightly. I'd always figured that his father loved his mother too much to remarry, the love remaining strong until he joined her up above.

"Well he did. I never bothered to remember her name; she was just a mother replacement, nothing more. She wasn't too bad of a woman, but the way my father just replaced my mother like that….it made me sick to my stomach. She looked like...like the typical German woman. Blond hair, blue eyes, slim figure. She tried to be motherly, but she would never, ever be more to me than a stranger." I hummed in response. I could never, ever imagine Mama replacing Papa. Nobody would ever be able to take his much-missed place. If it wouldn't have blown my cover, I would've given his cheeks the soft kisses that he loved so much.

"She brought along a daughter with her. Prinzessin, I swear, she was the most beautiful, darling little doll in the world. She'd inherited her mother's looks; long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes-darker than the one's my mother had and had passed on to me-perfect cream complexion, and the grace and manners of a lady well over in her thirties. I despised her. She, in turn, despised me as well. I was the worst brother a sister could ask for. What didn't I do to little Sophia…" He paused here to reminisce about all the things he could've done to her.

"I never picked her up from school, or went to her dance recitals. I always picked on her and pulled her pigtails, often making her cry. She was a vain little girl, always obsessing about her appearance, especially her hair. I hated it." he smirked at me then. "What didn't I do to that girl's hair; I stuck gum in it, gave her lice, hid her hairbrushes, snuck in her room to cut off her pigtails in the middle of the night. Boy, did she hate me after that. But she had no proof that it had been me that did any of those things. I was very, very clever back then. " He chuckled, stroking my hair softly.

"W-why didn't you like her?" I managed to say, having recovered from my previous food-poisoning attack. He sighed, holding me tighter.

"She was a doll. Plastic. Fake. She seemed to me a replacement for what my sister should've been. My sister should've been the living doll. She had my mother's brown hair, but my father's brown eyes. She was petite, and had trouble breathing, leading to her death a couple of minutes after my mother had died. What wouldn't I have done for little Angelika, had she lived. I would've been the best big brother a little princess like her could've asked for." He sighed happily, nuzzling his face in my hair. Imagining Duncan to be a big brother to a little girl, made me think about him as a father to that same little girl. Only that little girl was our daughter. Oh, what a sweet sight it was.

"Have you ever thought of having kids?" I suddenly blurted out, covering my mouth after having done so. I'd never meant to say that out loud. My goodness, what would he think of me now? He looked down at me with the strangest look in his eyes, I couldn't quite decipher what it was.

"Not really. I don't see myself married, with kids. Why?" I hummed, shaking my head and trying to hide my disappointment.

"Just something I had wondered."

"You should stop wondering so much, you could hurt yourself," he retorted playfully, squeezing me tight. "Feeling better, Sweetheart?" I nodded, mumbling a 'thank you' against his chest. He kissed my temple in response.

"Anytime, Darling."

"What are you doing, Hundin?" a rough voice demanded, and my eyes snapped back from flashback-mode, into regular mode. I really needed to stop spacing off like that; it hadn't been the first time in these past few weeks that I'd done so, and it was leaving me oddly disoriented. I raised my head as to meet the eyes of my speaker and held back a gasp as realized the man before me was a guard. Oh, crap. Now I'd really done it. Trying to save my crucial error, I looked downwards, trying to go back to my dishes and scrubbing them vigorously.

Dear God, if you let me out of this without any trouble I'll never do anything bad again.

"S-sorry S-sir," I stammered, keeping my eyes downcast. I knew that if I looked directly into his eyes, I would be gassed for sure. Suddenly my arm was forced behind my back, twisted in such a painful way I had to bite the inside of my cheek just to keep from screaming out loud.

"If you want to survive I suggest you keep your mouth shut and follow me," the guard's voice whispered venomously into my ear. Cringing, I could barely nod and fight the tears rising in my eyes as he dragged me out of the kitchen, far out, close to the woods. Even in my hysterical, frightened mood, I couldn't help but take notice of how vast this area was, and how there were no guards around it. It would've been the perfect place to sneak out to if I wanted to escape. But I would never leave Duncan like that; never, ever. Merely thinking about Duncan made me wince in terror. What was this guard going to do to me? Was I going to be killed? Oh, what if I was? Then what was to become of Duncan and mine's somewhat relationship? Fighting back a groan, I bit my lip in pain as the guard pushed me up against a rotting tree.

"Answer me quickly," he barked, and I nodded, willing to do anything to stay alive. "Are you General Duncan's pet?" he asked, growling slightly. I bit my tongue to fight back any response beside the one I needed to give. "Yes, Sir." He chuckled at my nervous response and turned me around so I was facing him. Trembling, I held back a whimper; I was terrified at the situation I was in. Who knew what this guard was going to do to me? What had I done wrong this time? Holding back I snort, I quickly remembered that he was German and it didn't matter whether I had done anything wrong or not. Yet, by the look on his face, it didn't seem like he was going to kill me; at least, not yet.

"It's not fair," he continued, seemingly talking to me, "that he's the only one to get some action in this camp." He paused his sentence to spit on the ground, and I cringed from the sight. "I'm just as good as him. I should have a pet of my own, in the very least. But, you're too enticing to let go. He should learn to share his pets. After all, you are merely his pet. Am I correct?"

"Y-yes Sir," I stammered, holding back a smirk. I was more than his pet. I was his lover-despite the fact that neither of us had admitted this fact out-loud. Yet I wouldn't dare even think this thought around this vile guard. For sure I would be sent to crematorium if I betrayed any ounce of clarity that I was more than his pet. Running the guard's words in my head, I suddenly realized what his sentence really meant. Oh dear lord, this man was going to rape me, and use me for his own personal needs. How was it fair that I had to be raped twice in my life? Wasn't once enough?

What would Duncan think? Would I even tell him? How would he react if I did? Oh, knowing Duncan, even through all the kindness and affection he'd shown me, he'd probably find some way to turn all of this around so it seemed like it was my fault.

"Good girl," the guard murmured, forcing me down sharply on the ground, eliciting a whimper from my throat. Even when Duncan had raped me, he was never this blunt. He always managed to squeeze in at least one comforting touch, or a mock-endearing saying.

Duncan…..Duncan please. Help.

o 0 O 0 o

What a long day it had been, I pondered, barely able to hold up my food as I sat down at a table next to my fellow comrades. Today I'd been in charge of record-keeping, which was very degrading. All because of Marie being sick, I had to take her place, because everybody else's position of the day had already been assigned. I shook my head in disgust as I picked at my food, barely hungry, just wanting to sleep.

Yet I knew, that with Prinzessin coming tonight, I would never fall asleep. That girl was something, that was for sure. I loved her, with all my heart; I just had to tell her, and hopefully she would return the feeling. I could see in her eyes how much I meant to her, and I tried with all my heart to show her the same with my actions.

I couldn't stop thinking about her. I couldn't stop thinking of how to make her happier, or how to get that loving smile to show up on her face; yet when she was around me, it never seemed to falter. That beautiful smile, what would I have killed for to see it endlessly. I knew I was becoming one of those men. The kind my father used to be like when my mother was still around. Yet, I would never turn into the monster that he was, never, ever. Especially if Prinzessin and I had a child. Fighting back a snort, my eyes glazed over at the ludicrous thought of Prinzessin and I having a child.

It was nearly impossible to bear one in the camp, much less, having the baby come out healthy at all. If she was to be pregnant here, it would be absolute misery. She would be starving all the time, and her stomach would hurt because of the damned baby kicking. Even more, if we conceived, the child would be a monster, because I had made it.

Shaking my head from the thought, I started to pay attention to the snickers I kept hearing from the left of me. Putting on my most defying glare, I turned to my comrades with no emotions in my eyes. "What?" From my left, Felix put on a teasing smirk, baring his teeth in a taunting smile.

"Thinking about getting laid tonight, Duncan?" I snorted, attention going back to my food. Of course I wasn't. I was thinking about Prinzessin as a person, rather than a sexual object. But I wouldn't dream of saying that in front of my comrades. "As always. The body needs, what the body needs. That's why these filthy Jews are here in the first place, to please us." A chorus of chuckles and cheers were heard all around me as praise to my comment. I had to fight back the feeling of shame that rose within me at the thought.

"Hope you don't mind, Duncan, but I borrowed one of your toys today. She's a mighty screamer, don't know how you can handle that." He chuckled at the end of his statement, while my blood turned cold. "W-what did you do?"

"Nothing much, just got some plain, good sex out of that toy you always play with. The feisty brunette with those filthy eyes." My blood turned even cooler as I merely stood there, trying to fight back the urge to pummel him to the ground. He'd raped Prinzessin. The news flooded through me like a tidal wave, crashing down and destroying everything in it's path. Oh god, Prinzessin was probably devastated, and hurt, and...I couldn't even comprehend how much pain she was in; but I didn't let any of my emotions slip through my facade.

"Toys are meant to be shared," I replied indifferently with a shrug, before standing up and socking him straight in the jaw. Not hard enough for it to break, but hard enough to bruise and to teach him a lesson. "But my toys are mine. And I don't have to share them, understood, Comrade?" He nodded his head shakily, clutching his jaw with fear in his eyes. I smirked in slight satisfaction, but on the inside I wanted to rip that son-of-a-bitch's throat out and feed it to the rats, then take those rats and burn them because they had something revolting inside of them. Within a few moments he recovered, sitting back down to eat. "Hey, she won't be your toy for much longer, General." I raised my eyebrows at him curiously, my insides freezing up again, worse than before.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, trying my best note to let any hidden emotion shine through. He took a sip from his beer and swallowed before bothering to answer my question.

"Most of the camp is being cleared out in three to four months. Nearly half the Jews are being relocated, and I happen to know that your girl is one of them."

"Hey, she's not my anything, except my sex toy. Make that mistake again, and I'll pound you so hard, you'll think you're a Jew yourself." I took the satisfaction of watching him cringe as he turned his attention back to his food.

"Well, guess you'll have to find yourself a new toy then, I suggest one with better eyes and with a quieter voice. Damned bitch shattered my eardrums," he muttered, and I gave him a glare so deadly, he shot up out of his seat and nearly ran out of the room. Snorting, I shook my head and turned my attention back to my food. And that's when it really hit me. Prinzessin was leaving. I only had three to four months with her, and then she was leaving me, and we would never see each other again. And she didn't even know.

Appetite completely gone, I stood from the table and quickly walked to my room, slamming the door shut. Dammit. Damn this fucking world. She was leaving. What we have would soon be over and done with, and then she would forget about me. Next thing I knew, my fist collided with the wall and made a large hole. I didn't even bother to acknowledge the pain.

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it. Why was I only given a couple of months with her? Why couldn't I have been given more time, told her I loved her, then helped us both escape? Sighing frustratedly, I pulled at my hair, pondering what I'd do.

Clearly this is a sign.

What kind of sign? A sign that I had to help her escape before then? Or, a sign that we weren't meant to be together. I shook my head, refusing to believe the insane thought. Of course Prinzessin and I were meant to be together. After everything we'd been though, and still going strong for two weeks? That was a sure sign that we had to be together. Her leaving was just a sign that I had to help her escape.

I wouldn't tell her about it, I decided swiftly. She would only panic, and get upset, and I hated seeing her upset. I would make the best of our time together while I figured out a solution to our problems.

A sudden knock on the door startled me, and I opened it quickly, only to pull Prinzessin in, slam the door, then crush her to me. I would never let her go, not after what she'd been through today. I didn't even have to pull away to know that she was crying; I could feel the wetness beginning to pool on my shirt. "Shh….Shh…," I tried to soothe, stroking her hair with one hand and holding her tight to me with the other. "It's okay now, I'm here. And if he dares lay a finger on you again, I will shoot him and feed him to the rats." She shakily lifted her head out of my chest and looked up at me, and I cradled her head gently.

"Y-you f-found out?" she choked out, silent tears running down her face. I wiped them away urgently, trying to get her to stop crying.

"Just a little while ago. Damn bastard couldn't keep his big mouth shut. Don't you worry about it, I took care of him. He'll never even think of touching you again." She sniffled as her crying started to ease. "Y-you're n-not mad at me…a-are you?" she squeaked hesitantly, and I hugged her tight again, stroking the back of her head. Why should I be the one mad at her? If anything, she should be livid with me; I wasn't there for her, I couldn't protect her. Yet I sighed and shook my head, preparing to answer.

"There's nothing to be mad at you for. You were merely a victim. I'm sorry Channa..I couldn't protect you," I apologized, planting a kiss on her tear-stained cheek. She pulled back and looked up at me with teary eyes before leaning up and kissing me softly. I kissed her back, relieved that she would be okay, yet still mad as hell for what had been done to her.

"I-I'm fine...I'll be fine..I just feel...sick for what he did to me..and I couldn't do anything about it…" I put a finger on her mouth to silence her, not being able to hear anymore without going to pound in Felix's head. "It's okay, it'll never happen to you ever again. I'll be there for you." She smiled up at me before hugging me back, tears done for the night.

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging me tight with her frail arms.

"Anything for my Prinzessin," I whispered back, kissing her head.

For now, she wouldn't know about her depart from the camp. I wouldn't tell her. Hopefully, I could secretly change it so she would stay. Or I would help her escape, then follow her in the near future. But for now, all I was intent on doing was making her happy. I would be with her, and she would be with me, and things would be fine. No, they would be more than fine. They would be amazing. I would make love to her over, and over again, then when the time came, I would tell her I love her. Then we would escape together, to a different country. I would change our names, and buy us a large house, and she would have everything she ever wanted. Hell, maybe we would even have a family together. Whatever she wanted, she would get.

Things would be perfect.


	14. Don't You Love Me?

Months passed, and they were very, very joyous. Duncan an I were having a blast, simply living life to the most we could. It was simple really, we talked, we kissed, we made love. It was simply perfect. I couldn't ask for anything better then what I had.

Well, actually taking time to think about it, I could. I wanted us to leave this camp, then to get a nice, big place somewhere out in the country; somewhere where nobody would ever bother us. No Nazis, no guards, no rules, just the carefree life of a husband and wife. Giggling at the thought, I wondered how exactly Duncan and I could get married. We'd have to change our names, of course, but that would just be for the outside world. Maybe I'd have to change my appearance; for Duncan, I wouldn't mind. Besides, it wasn't like I hadn't made sacrifices for him before. I suppose I could take the role of a simple country girl, or a housewife, if necessary; of course, this would imply that Duncan wanted to have children, which for now, he didn't. I was more than willing to wait years, and years to get married and have kids. For now, what we had between us was more than enough.

I wondered how exactly Duncan and I would escape from here. I suppose, we would have to escape through the forest. I wouldn't mind, when the time came. As long as I had a clear future ahead of us, things would go fine.

Yet I know that I needed to leave soon. Life in camp was becoming almost unbearable. While the vomiting had cut back, my stomach had begun to ache constantly, seeming to take the constant vomit's place. Maybe it was from the constant food I kept eating. The mix of camp food, and what I had been acquiring from Duncan, weren't mixing in so well. I shouldn't have been complaining so much. I was finally gaining weight back and rather quickly at that. The food that Duncan supplied me with was the perfect solution for my bony body, stomach pains pushed aside.

I had been selfish, very, very selfish last month when I had literally begged him for food. I had been so hungry for the past few days; I simply didn't know what came over me. Despite my shame, my mind began to recall the simply humiliating evening.

_"Why do you look so distant, my Engel? Have I done something wrong?" I bitterly looked up from my spot on his bed, feeling angry beyond all reason. Of course I was angry at him. How could he just sit there, and watch me starve to death! Couldn't he see the sharp bones protruding out of my stomach, and elbows, and back? Wasn't he even remotely worried about me?_

"I'm fine," I spit out bitterly, looking down at the dingy floor while wiping my runny nose. Why couldn't he clean the damned floor? Didn't he know what germs were on it? Especially after we made love? No wonder I was getting so sick. Yet the vibrant rumbling of my stomach reminded me otherwise. His hand grasped my chin immediately, forcing me to look into his mesmerizing eyes.

"You're not fine, so cut the bullshit and spit it out," he barked in my face, already upset with the way I was behaving. That was odd; usually he wouldn't get so angry with my attitude, just frustrated. Growling slightly, I remembered that he had no reason to be angry. I was the one who had every reason in the world to be upset with him. Some love; he didn't even care about my well-being.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I demanded, slapping his hand away from my face. His expression turned to hurt when I slapped him, yet he quickly recovered and regained his angry composure.

"I am your partner, and as your partner, I have that fucking right!" No he didn't! If he was my partner, then he would care that I was starving to death!

"Oh, is that what we are now!"

"I thought we were, before you became an even bigger hundin than you were before!" I gasped before smacking him across the cheek swiftly. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. Looking at his face, the handprint stood out like blood against his pale complexion. Uttering out a choked whimper, my hand flew to my throat, preparing for him to either beat me, or shoot me, or rape me. Or all of the above, you could never tell with him.

But he didn't do any of those things. He merely looked at me with a beyond hurt and confused expression planted on his gorgeous face. "Prinzessin," he uttered, his voice taking on the same tone that his expression projected. Before I knew it, I'd burst into tears, collapsing on the floor. I didn't know why I'd done it; all of a sudden the grief came over me, rendering me helpless.

"I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean it!" I sobbed into my hands, afraid he was going to leave me again and make me live my life alone.

"Shh, shh, there's nothing to cry about," he soothed. "It's okay, I forgive you; you were just caught in the heat of the moment, and what I said was out of line. I'm sorry. But there's no need to cry, so please stop," he urged, crouching beside me and holding me tight. I only cried harder.

"I-I'm just so, freaking hungry all the time! I'm always throwing up because the food isn't sanitary, and I never get enough of it! I mean, how could you not notice? I'm fucking skin and bones! I need food, Duncan! And you don't do anything about it!" I yelled, beating on him with my weak fists. He tried to get a word in, to try and bullshit me with weak excuses and lies, but I wouldn't let him.

"Please, Duncan!" I begged, on my hands and knees in a begging position. "Please! I'll do anything! J-just…make the hunger stop…make me healthy again," I concluded, my voice turning into a weak, desperate whimper. I couldn't bear look at his face, to see what he thought of me. He probably wanted to kick me out right now. But he didn't do that.

"Why…why didn't you tell me you were starving?" he asked, his voice sounding off.

"I…I didn't…I thought you knew…you see me every day…so…" I sniffled, trying to wipe away the pathetic, unexpected tears. He helped me up gently, planting a kiss on my pale forehead.

"All you had to do was ask, and I would've given it to you. If I could, I would give you the world, my Channa," he said smoothly, his eyes earnest and truthfully backing up every word that came out of his mouth.

"Thank you," I whispered, hugging him tightly. 

Groaning, I decided to put the awful memory behind me; it was of no use now. And I had gotten what I wanted, so that was fine. No, it was more than fine. It was perfect.

Soon, soon I would tell him I love him. He'd been acting rather distant and off lately, so hopefully the words would more than cheer him up. I wished to know why he looked at me so oddly over the past few days; and why he held onto me longer, and kissed me with more passion too. I figured that he loved me just as much, and didn't want to lose me.

I was less than satisfied with the way he'd been treating me lately, but I couldn't do much about it. I was confused as to why he would look at me for long periods of time, often not saying anything. I was confused as to why he would just sit there and hold me, stroke my hair, and rarely plant a kiss on my head, but in silence, and for very long visits of time. More than once he hadn't spoken a word to me during a visit, simply sat there and held me.

I'd tried to say something, on more than one occasion, but he didn't seem to hear me. He seemed to look right through me, not paying much attention to what I wanted to do anymore.

Hopefully things would change within a couple of days. If not, I didn't know what I'd do.

Walking to Duncan's room, a couple of days later, I knew I was ready. Tonight, I was going to tell him I love him. It was the right time exactly. I knew our relationship could only get better if I told him I love him, and I was prepared for the challenges we would face once I uttered those three special words out of my mouth.

Hopefully he would speak to me today. Hopefully he would look at me, and not through me. Hopefully he would return those fateful words, with as much enthusiasm as I hoped I would speak mine. I wanted him to say nothing at first, then sweep me up in his arms, plant a meaningful kiss on my lips, repeat those endearing words, then lay me down on his bed, and start to make eternal love to me.

Hiding the huge smile that were about to play out on my lips, I knocked briefly on the door, waiting for him to pull me inside like he'd done so often. Yet…he didn't this time. No matter, I thought to myself. It's happened before; recently too. I pushed the door open and walked inside, closing the door behind me softly. "Duncan?"

He was sitting on his bed, head bowed down, refusing to look up at me. Slightly hurt that he wouldn't even look up at me, even when I spoke, I walked over to him and rubbed his tense back gently. "Duncan, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly, rubbing circles into his shoulder blade with my thumb. His back didn't relax or ease as it usually did when I touched him; as a matter of fact, it tensed further. Now more worried, my heart started beating rapidly, unsure what was going on with him.

"D-Duncan? Can you please look at me? You're hurting me." Gradually, he lifted his head to look at me; and it seemed hours before he did. Yet he looked at me like he'd been doing lately; right through me. I grabbed his hands, panicking a little when they were freezing cold, and rubbed them gently as a way to get him to feel better.

"Duncan…I have something to tell you…" I spoke slowly, getting more confident with each of my words. Yet he looked away, those dazzling blue eyes unfocused on anything. Grabbing his chin, and literally forcing it to look at me, he finally did, his eyes boring into my own strongly.

"Duncan…I…I…"

"You what?" he asked, his voice oddly bleak, and worn out. This was it. I was going to tell him I love him. After all of the time we spent together, after absolutely everything we'd been through, this was it. This would be the start of all our time together; the start of our real lives. This would be the start of our future, where we would get married, and have friends, and maybe even have a couple of children.

Our lives would go perfect from here. We would escape together, through the forest, stopping only to sleep and make passionate love to one another. Then we would run far, far away, to the outskirts of Germany, or Poland, or even France for goodness-sakes! Just as long as we could live in the country, I wouldn't care. The country-side would be perfect; private, and homey, and comforting beyond belief.

We would go into the city only once; to change our names, and to get married. Courtney Esther Ehrlichmann. Mrs. Ehrlichmann. Mrs. Courtney Esther Politzer-Ehrlichmann. It sounded so lovely, so hopeful. Oh, we would have darling times together, I just knew it.

Laying a hand upon his face delicately, I stroked his stubble, making sure to savor this moment and to engrave it into our memory. This very moment would begin everything, absolutely everything. Taking a deep breath, I calmed my speeding heart and looked at him with all the love, and admiration I could muster.

"Duncan…I love you," I spoke softly, but made sure it was loud enough for him to hear. His body froze, and he seemed to look right through me again before completely looking away. I smiled, figuring he was probably just shocked from the word I had just emitted. Who wouldn't have been shocked? If he had told me he'd loved me, I would've been shocked as well. I mean, look at us; a Nazi soldier, and a prisoner Jew, in love. I fought back a giggle at the ridiculous thought, and simply waited for him to recover.

Only, he didn't.

I gently ran my fingers along his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Duncan? Darling?"

He didn't respond, and seemed to continue to remain stone.

"Duncan," I spoke hesitantly, slowly. "C-could you please answer me? Please?" Slowly, with as much stiffness as he could, he turned his head to look at me, no emotion present on his face.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked bitterly, a cloud of hatred present on his face. I was taken aback and immediately removed my hand from his shoulder, becoming quite scared and worried of the way he was acting. Why was he acting like this? Why didn't he tell me he loved me back? I knew he did, I just knew it. He had to love me.

"I…T-that you love me back?" I squeaked, entirely unsure now of my answer upon seeing the pure mockery and detest in his eyes. What had happened to my Duncan?

"Why on earth would I love you? Honestly, Courtney, how could you think of something as stupid as that? You should know that you are nothing more to me than a sex toy. Absolutely nothing." I tried to stop the tears swelling in my eyes after hearing this. He had to be lying! He had to be playing some cruel, sick, inhumane joke on me! I knew I meant more to him than a sex toy! Why was he acting as if the last five or six months of our time hadn't happened!

"Y-you're lying," I spoke feebly, trying to cover up the quaver in my voice. My body was trembling from utter fear, not knowing what exactly was going on. Any minute now, I tried to assure myself. Any minute now he would quickly hug me and pull me close and assure me he loved me profusely.

"I don't lie. You are a Jew, and I am a German. The fact that you could even consider us to be in love is the damn right, stupidest thing you've ever done; stupider than talking and falling in love with that drecksau, Yaacov." I honestly tried to keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes, but I couldn't stop my lower lip from trembling, unable to hide the hurt in my eyes.

So it wasn't a joke. He really didn't love me. These past few months were a joke, and I was absolutely nothing more than a fool. Nothing more than an absolute, crazy fool like I'd always been, and would never stop being. I thought I'd learned what it was really like to be in love, but I was wrong. I'd never know what it was like to be in love, because I was stupid.

"Yes Sir.." I answered, unable to keep the hurt and the pain out of my voice.

"Doesn't matter anyway. There's no point in being sad; you'll be gone tomorrow, and you'll never see me again." My head snapped up to look at him, confused by his words. What did he mean he was never going to see me again? Of course I would see him again: in hell. Did that mean he would stop seeing me? Was he going to find another Jacqueline?

"What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly, worry planted in my eyes. He chuckled and looked at me darkly; hiding any emotion he was feeling with utter coldness.

"You're being shipped off into a new camp. You'll never see me again. It's been fun, my little kind. But ah well. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen." My lip quivered again, and I could barely stop the tears from leaving my eyes.

"H-how long have you known about this?" He shrugged, standing up from the bed and grabbing his jacket.

"A couple of months. But I've always known we would never last. Such a shame," he spoke, not sounding shameful in the least. He'd known all along? That I was simply going to leave him? That we would never last? That we were simply prolonging the inevitable?

Utter hurt swept through my system as I lowered my head, feeling very ashamed. What future would I have? No future. As soon as I was shipped off to that camp, I would surely slip up and make a mistake, then be sent off to be killed. And you know what? I wouldn't have minded. Without Duncan, my life would be an positively, absolute hell, with nothing left to live for.

Said man came to me and looked at me for a couple of seconds, probably burning the image in his mind so he would at least remember the good sex he had. I couldn't look up at him and face him; it wasn't worth it. I would always love him, always remember him. I wouldn't forget the memories he gave me, I wouldn't forget the dreams he had given me. I wouldn't forget the first time we had made love to one another; I wouldn't forget our first, real kiss. I wouldn't forget the way he took care of me when I was feeling under the weather, or the way he told me stories and crooned my name in my ears. I wouldn't forget the lessons he had taught me, and the rules I had so taken pains to obey.

And most of all, I wouldn't forget the way he made me feel free again, like I was actually going somewhere in life. Because I would always love him, always. And I would never forget.

I became aware of a presence very close to me, and from my peripheral vision, I saw him bend down, and I felt his chaste, yet meaningful kiss on my hair. "I will never forget you, Channa," he whispered, before walking out and leaving me in absolute nothingness.

This time, I didn't dare try to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes, and the sobs that so wanted to escape my throat.


	15. Realizations

**For sure, this chapter was my favorite to write. By the ending, you'll see why. And before you guys ask, no, this is not the end. This is simply the climax of the story, and leads to the 'falling action' drama to come. There may or may not be an alternate ending, and a sequel, but I still haven't decided yet, so don't get your hopes up _too_ much. :D**

**Anyways, if you guys have been following my Deviantart journals, you should know that DxC are back together :D I'm not going to fully explain it here, because frankly, I want you guys to get to the story quicker. If anyone wishes to know the full story, either go on my Deviantart page (look up DxC4ev3r) and read all my fully detailed journals, or go ask Duncan and Courtney themselves on their formsprings :D Links are as here: www(dot)formspring(dot)me/AskTDIDuncan(or AskTDICourtney). **

**Also, if you've been following my Deviantart, you should know that I'm planning on turning this story into a book, and publishing it. :). Opinions? Ideas? Criticisms on the idea?**

**Also, (last one, I swear!) Duncan, and Courtney themselves have read this story :D I am proud to say, that they both like it very, very much :) **

**Courtney has said that "I must say, this story is quite amazing. It's certainly nothing like I've ever read before. Incredible...amazingly well written...At the same time though, it's oddly fascinating... I cannot wait to see what happens...your story gets more amazing with each chapter. An emotional-rollar coaster, it is...I didn't realize I was bitting my lip through the whole thing until Duncan finally told me I was going to bite it right off. That was... just... scary. Perfectly written, though...it's quite a stressful story. Filled with twists and turns...it really is an amazing story..." **

**And that's just bits and pieces of what Courtney has said overall about my story :D I'd post Duncan's here too...but frankly, I'm too lazy, and I'll save it for the next chapter.**

**If you're reading this Duncan...*dodges bullets/chainsaw* hahaha, jkjk**

**Now! Let's see if we can top 30 reviews...Please? :(**

**Enjoy!**

Shivering slightly, I turned once-more to look at the nearly-barren camp behind me. Nearly everyone was getting shipped off; to where, nobody knew. For all I knew, I was getting sent to a death camp. For all I knew, I could suffocate and die in the boxcar I was being pushed so roughly towards. Would I have minded? I hummed in response to my unvoiced question; I honestly wasn't so sure anymore. I was still in great mystery to what had happened last night; it hadn't made any sense at all.

I was so sure that he loved me; I was so, unbelievably sure. And then he dropped to bomb on me. He didn't love me; not at all, and it was ridiculous of me to even think so. Sighing, I looked away from the camp which had given me so many memories; both extremely unpleasant, and significantly pleasant. Would I miss it? Hell no.

But would I miss Duncan?

Absolutely.

I didn't even have to think about my answer to that question. It was just a fact. Despite what had happened last night, I was absolutely positive that I still loved him, and would miss him greatly. But I would never see him again. And that was that.

Before I could let the sadness overcome me once more, I was shoved into the murky-aired, dingy boxcar—along with twenty other people, all at once—trying to continue to breathe normally. It was a difficult feat on it's own, and the tears built up in my eyes again.

How could he not tell me I was leaving him? He said he'd known for awhile. How long was a while? Days, weeks, maybe even months? Sighing frustratedly-and regretting it nearly immediately when I started to cough heavily-I leaned back against the wooden walls of the boxcar. How could he do such a thing? It didn't make any sense, not at all.

Just a couple of weeks ago I was more than positive he loved me; I could see it in his eyes. Yet, he'd started to change. He'd become that strange ghost who only held me instead of talking to me. The seemingly stone figure who only kissed my head and stroked my hair repeatedly instead of making love to me. The blank face who didn't dare call me the nicknames I'd adored, much less talk to me at all. What had happened? Why had he changed?

Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the chatter around me, sweating ever so slightly from the withering heat and close quarters. What would become of me now? Would I suffocate from the close surroundings? Trying to breath through my mouth-even though it proved to have no better a success than breathing through my nose, and in addition now I could taste the murkiness of the air itself-I tried to clear out the fogginess in my head.

How could things have turned out this way? What had I done wrong? Could it have been my constant upchucking? Or the way I'd been acting lately? Had he gotten sick of me, for real this time? Simply thinking about the thought made tears swell up in my eyes again, and my back began to fester from the splintery wood I was laying on.

Why couldn't he love me back? Was there something so wrong with me that had changed within these last couple of weeks?

Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was just a terrifying, horrible nightmare. Yes, that _had_ to be it! Of course! This was _all_ just a delusional, horrific, heinous, illogical _nightmare_! Giddy with the thought, I shut my eyes tightly, deciding to wait a good ten minutes before going back to reality. Any minute now, my brain would stir up and take me out of this horrendous nightmare.

I'd wake up on my shelf, and I wouldn't even think about complaining about its stiffness, and how it would make my back ache. I wouldn't wince when I saw my mother pass me every morning on the way to breakfast, for I would be thrilled that I would still be in this camp. And then at night….oh at night…

At night, I would rush up into my lover's desperate arms, and then I would really tell him I love him. And this time, he would be thrilled. He would take me up in his arms and kiss me all over my cheeks, thrilled with the fact that I feel that way about him. And after a couple of minutes settling into our wonderful splendor, we would meaningfully make love, then talk about our future together.

This time, we would make plans for our escape out of camp. This time, everything would work out just fine. This time, everything would be perfect.

Realizing that my thoughts had kept me occupied for more than ten minutes, I prepared myself for what would be the best day of my life. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, only to come across the same scene that had been before me ten minutes ago. Unbelieving that this was my reality, I blinked repeatedly, trying to get the scene to change. When that didn't work, I pinched myself, long and hard, and again-not the first time it's happened it my life-it failed me.

Tears rose in my eyes at the realization that this wasn't some horrid dream. Duncan really _didn't_ love me back. That fact would never change. I was in the process of being shipped off some new, strange camp, with nobody there to look out for me. It was just me, myself, and I.

For some reason, that thought alone made the tears run out of my eyes and encouraged the sobs to escape my throat.

A small hand lay on my shoulder and I looked up to see a small girl, no more than twelve, attempting to comfort me. I sniffled and tried to force a smile in her direction, but found myself crying even harder, the misery from the previous night fully overcoming me again.

"It's alright, there's no need to cry. I'm sure everything will be okay," she attempted to soothe, and I only wailed harder, sounding much like those heartbroken women who had lost their husbands in war, or like my mother, after we'd found out that Papa had died.

And that was exactly how I felt. Anguish and pain were covering every part of me, consuming me so far to the point I couldn't feel any other emotion. I kept right on with my sobs, not caring who saw, or heard me.

I'd be gone soon enough.

o 0 O 0 o

How could I have done something as so stupid as to let her go? Why couldn't I have done something to make her stay, to hide her from the guards? Then we could've escaped from this camp and gone out to live somewhere, to start our lives together. Why couldn't I have been smart—for once in my life—and done something useful like that?

_Because you broke her heart by refusing to tell her you loved her back._

Remembering the putrid thought, I groaned, the horrible events from the previous night coming back to haunt me. Her angel face, twisted up in the worst pain I could imagine. More pain then when I had first raped her, more pain even, since that first night she'd spent with me.

Of course I loved her back; there was no doubt of that.

Yet I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth, as I was too busy feeling the pain over the fact that she would be gone the next morning. And now she was gone, and the hole in my heart had swollen up five times its size. The last time I'd felt this kind of pain…was when I found out that my mother had died. Was Prinzessin worth as much to me as my mother? Sighing, I decided to think about it for a bit.

How did my mother make me feel?

She was special, no, she was extraordinary. She'd been there for me whenever I needed it, and she always made me feel safe. Whenever I was hurt, or upset, or not feeling the best I could, she would always be there, rocking me to sleep with comforting words and sweet lullabies. I'd never want for anything as long as I'd had her, and she would've been the one person I would've adored to spend the rest of my life with. I just loved her that much.

She'd taught me how to cook, how to clean, how to sew, and upkeep a house well. I knew these traits were mostly feminine, and quite degrading in my demeanor, but they were useful, to a great extent. Mother had taught me everything I knew; how to walk, how to talk, how to treat a lady. She'd also taught me to read, and write, and was always praising me with soft kisses on my cheeks.

I missed her, so badly; I thought I would've exploded the day after her death. I couldn't live without her; yet I did. For over eight years. They were a difficult, agonizing, endless eight years, but eight years all the same. Yet, it seemed that lately, I'd been able to find a decent replacement.

How did Prinzessin make me feel?

From the moment I met her, I knew I could find another. There would always be some brunette, proud, pain in the ass, vain, conceited, annoying, overachieving girl exactly like her. I knew I wouldn't even have to go to another town to find somebody like her. I could go to my neighbor's house and portray their eight-year-old daughter to be like her. Hell, I could even portray my step-sister to be like her.

Yet, she was absolutely none of those things.

At first, she may have seemed to be all of those things, but within a couple of months, I had broken down every single barrier that those well-built characteristics had so eternally held. And when those traits had crumbled and fled, her real ones shone through. Prinzessin was extremely kind-hearted, with a sensitive little demeanor that I wouldn't dare break—temporarily forgetting the previous night. She was gentle, and loving, and forgiving, and wise beyond her years. Hell, she was even wise beyond my years—even though that wasn't saying very much.

She'd always made sure to kiss me on the cheeks when I saw her, something so loving and affectionate, my heart nearly melted every single time she'd done it. The single time I wasn't feeling well, she'd made such a fuss over me; making sure I stayed in bed and got some rest while she crooned soft songs in my ears. Oh, she had such a lovely voice; I could never get enough of it. Such a shame that I had to beg her to sing; she was such a shy little soul, I remembered with a chuckle.

She'd told me that she would make me an excellent wife—once we had talked about the future, and rather playfully at that—she'd told me that she would cook for me, and clean for me, and I'd never want for anything as long as she lived.

It ached my heart to think of these cheerful memories, as now, she was gone, and she wouldn't be coming back.

Sighing, I turned over on my bed, before the realization hit me.

Prinzessin was the one who I wanted, no; I needed to spend the rest of my life with. I couldn't live without her; I couldn't lose another one like her. I couldn't lose the most important woman in my life. Eyes widening at the thought, I was in disbelief at how I wasn't even a slightest bit shamed at the statement. Wasn't my mother always the most important person in my life? Shaking my head, I looked up at the ceiling, begging for forgiveness.

"Sorry, Ma; you know I'll always love you…but she's special. And I love her, and she's the most important one, for now, and forever. Please, forgive me..." And with that said I bolted out of my bed, grabbing a bag and packing all the things I could. I had to transfer camps, quickly. I knew where she was going; now all I had to do was follow her.

But she would never, ever, ever forgive me for what I'd done to her, I realized with a sigh. I needed to give her something, something to remind her that I would always love her, and want to be with her. Eyes narrowing slightly, I went to my drawers, fumbling through them slightly before finding a small item, wrapped in tissue paper. It would be perfect, but not enough.

I needed something special, something that she could relate to more.

I jumped when a loud knock had reached my door. Going over to it and opening it, I frowned slightly when I saw who it was. "Go away, Heather."

She ignored my demand and sauntered into the room with arrogance and pride all around her. I sneered behind her back, wondering what the hell she was doing here. What did the whore want from me? Suddenly she turned around to face me, a sly smile played so devilishly upon her lips.

"I heard that a shipment was released, including your little sex toy. So I offer my services to you, big boy, in case you need some relief before going home on Monday." I sneered at the thought, wanting nothing more than to kick her scrawny ass out of my room, and onto the dirty street. Then I noticed the object wrapped around her neck.

"_It's a really pretty locket, really. Silver, with a small clasp on the back, and the heart is engraved on the inside by my papa. It had taken him weeks to make it for me, and he gave it to me on my fourth birthday. I'd do anything to have it back…really…"_

Eyes narrowing at remembering her soft, yet tear-filled words, I put on the most seductive face I could. It was time Prinzessin got her locket back.

"I'll tell you what, Heather. I'll make tomorrow night the best night of your life…if you give me that locket. I'm short on cash for the train ride home, and I'm pretty sure I could hock that for a decent price." Without hesitation, and perfectly according to plan, she yanked the necklace off her bony neck and thrust it into my hands.

"It's of no use to me; I took it from some stupid Jew girl anyways, no it means nothing. And you better live up to your promise for tomorrow night; otherwise I would come back for seconds." With that said, she smirked at me playfully before leaving the room. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous thought. If I had my way, I would be out of here by tomorrow evening, and onto where Prinzessin was.

Looking down at the necklace in my palm, I scowled when I noticed that Heather had broken the clasp when ripping it off her throat.

Guess I'd have to make a couple of stops before going to see Prinzessin.

o 0 O 0 o

Three days, one freezing shower, and a beyond-empty stomach later, I was settled into our new barrack. Lucky me, who was to be placed with me, than my mother. Luckily, I'd heard bits and pieces from other girls, saying that the camp was easy, and wasn't nearly as brutal as the other one. More work, less play, yet less strict. What a joy.

Resting my head on the beyond-welcomed wooden shelf, I hoped I would never have to endure another boxcar ride like that again. It was simply awful; so beyond awful I couldn't even speak the words to describe it. Closing my eyes, I decided to sleep, to regain my strength back and to wash away all the images running through my mind.

Yet I'd hardly slept what seemed two minutes before I was dragged off my shelf, and onto the floor, harsh German words spat at me while I got up slowly. The unfamiliar guard shoved me out the door, and pushed me so I walked faster. What possible reason could have been given to kill me off? Was I not allowed to sleep? To feel the numbness of my heart and brain as it rested? SIlent tears ran down my cheeks again as I was shoved inside a door, pure darkness reaching my eyes. I blinked twice, simply counting down the seconds before I was to be gassed.

"My, my, somebody looks a little tired," a soft, yet strangely familiar voice chuckled, and my eyes couldn't help but widen at the possibility.

"Duncan? Is that you? Or am I dreaming again...I swear..if this is another dream…" the voice only chuckled once more as two strong arms grabbed me around my waist and pulled me close to a taut, muscular build. Suddenly a dim light was turned on, and I could see nearly everything, despite the dim light. Nearly three days in a dark boxcar really did enhance a person's ability to see in dim lighting conditions.

"Miss me, Prinzessin?" the voice breathed out softly, and suddenly I was turned around to face the one man who'd single-handedly broken my heart less than 74 hours prior. The unsure, hesitant grin planted on his face made me confused as to what to think of our situation at the moment. What was he doing here, all the way out in…-just at this moment I realized I had no clue exactly _where_ we were. But still, the question rang loud and clear in my mind. What on earth was he doing here, with me, after telling me that he didn't love me and I was only his toy? Surely there would be other toys laying around his hometown; surely better than me. So why had he…..had he followed me here?

Oh, how my heart soared at that moment. Maybe he really did love me! Maybe it was just the initial shock that made him respond that way to me. Now I could forgive him, and we could still live in our happy, untroubled little bubble of a life.

But then my common sense kicked in and slapped me in the face. Why the hell was I thinking such hopeful, romantic thoughts. He hadn't come out here for me, he'd only come out here to do his father proud and serve more years in the arms. He didn't love me, he just missed his sex toy, and the effort it took to find a new one would be too much on his small brain to handle. SO he had to follow me. For the sex.

Sniffling and feeling the tears rise up in my eyes for what seemed the millionth time in the past three days, I looked away from him, unable to comprehend and accept the truth. His strong hand went to my back, rubbing it firmly. "I owe you a large explanation, Prinzessin…" Wasn't that the truth? But I let him do as he pleased, for the time being. Hesitantly, he dragged me over to his bed, only holding my hand. Though, I did take notice of how he was holding it tightly, rubbing his thumb over the thin bones, as if trying to reassure something. I didn't know what to think of it, and simply remained confused, not letting my mind dwell much on the situation at hand. I would let him speak, for now, and let him explain his actions.

Silently he sat down on his bed, his forehead knotted together in thought. As if remembering that I was still there, he looked up at me with surprised eyes. "Sit, sit, Prinzessin," he urged, and I, unsure whether it would be okay to sit on his lap or not, simply sat beside him, letting him take my hands and stroke them in an affectionate manner.

"I guess...you're confused right now...wondering what I'm doing here...and why...since...I…...um...the way I behaved….the other night," he hesitantly spoke, sounding nervous, and unsure of himself. This was a way I'd never seem him behave before. He was always so smooth, so sure of himself, so confident and cocky. And yet, the way he behaved now was oddly refreshing, and made me feel a bit warmer inside, knowing that what he had to say was probably important.

"I..um...Prinzessin...you...just...," he groaned for his nervousness and inability to speak clearly. I couldn't help myself but smile softly and rest a hand against his cheek, making him turn to look at me in shock. I tried to put on my best expression which would clearly say, 'go on. It's okay, I trust you.' I seemed to have succeeded for he sighed and touched the hand resting on his face, before removing it completely. Shocked at the action, my eyes couldn't help but water slightly; didn't he like it when I touched his face?

Suddenly the realization came to me that this might not be a happy reunion at all. What if he was just going to apologize, and explain to me his need for sex? His need for me to please him. Looking down, my lip quivered lightly; I knew I had been utterly foolish to ever think-again-that he would love me back. Suddenly, his hand was grasping my chin, lightly forcing it upwards to look at him. This time, _his_ eyes were the ones reassuring me that everything would be okay. Sniffling, I remained looking at him, simply waiting for him to continue.

"I know...you probably never want to speak with me again. I know you probably don't even want to see me again, for what I did to you the other night; and I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so incredibly sorry. The way I've been acting for the past couple of weeks….is inexcusable. I know, I left you wanting more, and confused for why I would barely speaking to you...and that wasn't right. I'm very sorry for that.

"You see...the day Felix had raped you...he'd told me that they were clearing the camp out in a few months. To say that I was hurt, and shocked at the statement...would be a complete and utter understatement. I know, you were probably wondering why I hadn't told you. You were probably furious with me for not giving you some kind of a warning; And I'm sorry for that too. I didn't want to hurt you, or to make you upset in any way; I simply wanted us to enjoy the time we had together without having to worry too much about the future.

"And then, there was only a month left before you were to leave, and I'd never see you again. You were wondering why I barely talked to you in that month, why I only held you close. Now isn't it obvious, Prinzessin?" Not understanding in the slightest, I shook my head no, my mind still buzzing with the previous information he had given me. He chuckled and hugged me, kissing my cheek in an affectionate manner.

"You silly girl. It's because I wanted to savor every moment I'd ever spent with you. I wanted to remember how it felt like to hold you, to kiss your head, to stroke your hair. I never wanted to forget it. But all in all...it didn't help a bit. The memories were absolutely nothing, compared to the real thing." "I sniffled, taking in all this information. Duncan...was only trying to protect me? To keep me from hurting later on?

"And that night...that night...I was a monster. A pure, unbelievably selfish monster who tried to protect you, but hurt you more than I could even comprehend." I opened my mouth to cut in, saying that I wasn't _that_ hurt-which was an outright lie-yet he silenced me. "Don't even _try_ to deny it. I bet you've been wondering why exactly I acted that way. You see, I was foolishly convinced that if I acted that way to you, and told you that you were merely my sex toy, you would hate me, and forget about me, and wouldn't miss me when you left. But my stupid excuse probably means nothing to you, because of how hurt you still are from the whole ordeal; I can see it in your eyes, Prinzessin.

"And then I thought about it. I thought a lot about it while you were gone. And I realized that I had to come after you. I couldn't live without you, because you, my Prinzessin, are the only girl I want to spend the rest of my life with." I gasped, my heart fluttering at the thought. Did he just say that….maybe dreams really did come true. But I let him talk, just in case I was wrong.

"Prinzessin…," he looked at me and rested a hand on my cheek, rubbing it softly. "I am so sorry...for _ever_ hurting you...and I hope you know, that I would give you the world to make it up to you...because…" he took a deep breath here, looking straight at me. "I love you, Prinzessin. I always have, always will." I blinked back tears, even though I knew it would be useless in a matter of seconds. He loved me? He loved me! Oh my goodness, Duncan loved me!

"I know...you probably don't forgive me for what I did to you….and...I hope you still love me...but...even if you don't….I have something for you." I watched him reach into his pocket, pulling out a small, flat, white box. He put it in my hands gently, closing them around it. "Go on...open it. I hope you like it…" Slowly, with trembling hands, I opened the box, only to gasp once again and to start sobbing at the sight.

My locket! My locket! The locket Papa had given to me! The exact same thing, not a replica! I grasped it within my hands tightly, fumbling with the tiny clasp on the heart just to make sure that it still had the engraving. It was there! It was there! It really _was_ the exact same locket! Yet, there was something different...as if...there was another engraving. I read it slowly, more tears dripping out of my eyes once reading it.

'_I will always love you, my Prinzessin.'_

He really did love me! I looked up at him, still sobbing, unable to form the questions that I so wanted to sputter. He smiled shakily and patted my thigh, chuckling nervously.

"I got it back from Heather. And when she removed it from her neck..she broke the clasp in the back, so I had to stop by a jewelers and get it fixed...and I had that engraved for you as well….because, I really do love you Prinzessin...and I really, really am sorry for what I did." I sniffled, the locket still clasped in my hands. Gently, he reached over and took it from me, going behind me and clasping it on my neck securely. He kissed my head after leaning to the side to inspect how it looked. "Simply beautiful...just like you." I looked up at him, and he smiled at me before reaching into his pocket again.

"I..uh..have something else for you. Because, I really do love you, and I hope you really do like it...and..say yes.." He pulled out a small item, wrapped in tissue paper. My eyebrows scrunched in confusion, unable to comprehend what this item could be. Confused, I watched him bend down on one knee, and my eyes widened and my heart dropped. Surely he wasn't going to...not Duncan! Duncan would never…

"Prinzessin….will you marry me?" no sooner than the words had reached my ears, he unwrapped the item, revealing it to be a ring. And not just any ring, it was the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen in my life. And that's when it really hit me. Duncan wanted me to marry him! He really did love me! I sobbed harder, out of pure happiness. "Prinzessin….Courtney….please..I didn't think that you would be this upset," he said, quite perplexed, and I threw myself at him. I kissed his face all over, still sobbing lightly.

"Yes, yes! A million times, yes!" That was all he needed to slip the ring on my finger and to lift me up happily, spinning me around cheerfully. "Thank you, thank you, my Channa." He kissed me firmly, leaving my bearing the brightest smile I could at him. "Do you forgive me?" I laughed and hugged him tighter, unbelieving that this night had actually happened.

"Yes, yes. A million times, yes." I kissed him again, and it took no time at all for our lips to synchronize together into a perfect medley. I was getting married! To Duncan! After all this time...and all the energy and care we had put onto our relationship...now, our lives would be perfect, they just had to be.

"We're getting married!" I exclaimed, breaking the kiss and squealing slightly. That's when I knew that age didn't matter when it came to marriage. After all this time, looking down at all the fifteen year olds, and sixteen year olds who had gotten married and had kids quickly….now I saw why they did it. They were in love.

"That we are, my Prinzessin," he said before kissing me repeatedly on the cheeks. I felt like a little girl again at the way he was so lavishly putting his affection on me. That is, I felt like a little girl, until he laid me on the bed and started to kiss other places…

And the rest of what happened that night, was history.


	16. Hopes for the Future

**Quickie update, I know, but I started to write this, and I just couldn't stop. This is the big chapter you have all been waiting for...well, some of you, at least. **

**I'm sad, there's only about...two chapters left before the ending..only three chapters left in the story.. *sob***

**But...I have decided...there WILL be an alternate ending. And a sequel to that.**

**Enjoy...and don't kill me while reading the ending.**

"What's our wedding going to be like, Duncan?" I asked softly, lying in his arms after vomiting, a couple of weeks later. Truthfully the question had been nagging at my unusually ecstatic mind since the night I had agreed to marry him. Where would we live? How could we get married? How would we even escape? My future husband chuckled at me question, sighing happily and kissing my head before hugging me tighter.

"Well…You see, my Prinzessin…that would involve us having to escape. Would you like to hear my plan?" I nodded, sitting up and looking at him straight just so I could tell he wasn't lying to me. I didn't know that he had a plan; the fact alone that he was thinking about our escape made my heart flutter. There was the pure, recurring assurance that he loved me. A smile fell upon my lips as I stared into his blue orbs, wondering how on earth they could be so naturally blue. He broke my stupor by taking my hands in his and kissing them, smirking at me.

"Well, it's very simple, really. We'd have to leave in the dead of night, simple as that, as that's when most everybody will be asleep. I'll tell the head of command about my resignation from the army; it shouldn't be too much of a problem since I'd already served my time, plus a shitload of time after that. You will be enlisted in the records, as dead, by late that evening. I'll tell them some story about planning to kill you that night right after sleeping with you, and then tell them that I will take the night shift, before I leave." I blinked my eyes slowly at him, quite fazed by the way that he had been thinking. Was it so easy for him to think as me as dead? And say it so casually at that?

I shook my head, trying to remove the foolish thought from my head. Duncan loves me, and that's that. There was no other way around it, no shortcuts. I sighed, lying down in his arms again, smiling when he happily snuggled my body closer to him.

"May I continue, Prinzessin? Or we could always stop….and…" he bent down to plant a kiss on my lips and I giggled, kissing him back happily. It only lasted to a couple of moments though, as I pulled back, looking up at him anxiously. "I want to hear the rest." He chuckled and leaned back on his bed, beginning to stroke my hair.

"Alright, alright, Miss Impatient. And once the coast is clear, we shall escape, my love, into the forest, the darkness cloaking our rebellion. I'll have a car acquired; I'll request for one to get to the train station. Then, from there, it's simple, really. We'll stop at an inn, and I'll buy you some clothes so you look somewhat civilian, and then we'll take the train, far, far out of Germany. I was thinking…we could go to Switzerland. The trip could take a couple of days…but we would be in no danger there. We can get married, even under fake names, if we have to. And we can live in a little house in the countryside…just like you wanted," he concluded.

My mind was buzzing around, trying to make sense of what he was saying. His plan was thought out; very precise, and very well thought out. I couldn't think of a single flaw with his plan. "Duncan?"

"Yes, my Prinzessin?"

"How long exactly, have you planned this?" I asked, in what seemed to be a distant voice. He chuckled and cupped my face kissing me lightly.

"Maybe about...two months ago. I hadn't really figured out all the details until I really thought about it on the train ride here. Why do you ask, my love?" My lower lip quivered as I hugged him tightly, lightly sobbing into his chest. "Prinzessin…why do you cry? This is happy news, we should rejoice and celebrate, not be sad about it."

"Duncan...I'm happy…I'm truly happy. T-thank you…for making all of this p-possible." He chuckled again, ruffling my hair before kissing it tenderly. "Anything for my Prinzessin." He grasped my hand and stroked the ring on it lightly before kissing it. "Now, I still haven't told you about our wedding or the house I'm going to buy for you." I gasped, my face lighting up like I was a small girl, about to receive a giant surprise.

"Mhm…" he confirmed, rubbing my arm. "We're not going to have anything close to large, traditional wedding, my Courtney, and I'm sorry for that. But we'll have to remain in some seclusion for quite a bit, and it's not like we'll have any friends to celebrate with…but you can buy a nice dress, and we'll go to city call and get married, and I'll carry you to the threshold, and we can begin our wedding night," he concluded, waggling his eyebrows at me while I frowned, slapping his arm slightly.

Truthfully, I was quite disappointed we wouldn't be having a large, traditional wedding. Even when I was a little girl, I'd dreamed of having Papa walk me down the aisle, and I'd be wearing the prettiest white dress, and I would have many friends and family surrounding my husband and myself. I wanted a garden wedding, for Mama's garden was the prettiest thing in the world, and I couldn't imagine getting married anywhere else.

So when he'd told me that we weren't going to have anything close to a large, customary, garden wedding, I was rather disenchanted. He noticed my expression almost immediately and sat up, looking at me confused. "Courtney, please tell me you aren't having second thoughts about marrying me…" he spoke, sounding rather timid and hurt. I shook my head, tears filling my eyes.

"Of course not! I can't wait for our wedding! It's just…I'd been looking forward to have a big, beautiful wedding in a garden…" His facial expressions dimmed, looking quit bitter.

"I'm sorry, my Darling. In any other circumstance I would give you whatever you want, but not this time. It's highly impossible. We can still celebrate in the garden…but…surely you see why it's impossible for us to have that large wedding of yours don't you?" I was about to shake my head no before realization dawned on me.

Of course we couldn't have a big, fancy wedding! Papa wasn't even alive, Mama's garden was all the way back in…I didn't even remember where anymore, and I didn't have any friends. Surely I could make do with what I could, couldn't I? After all, it wasn't the actual wedding that mattered, it was the person who I was getting married to. Smiling at my soon-to-be husband, I nodded, trying my best to make do.

"Can I plant a garden in our house?" I asked timidly, afraid he would think it was too feminine and a waste of time. He smiled, seeing I finally understood our predicament.

"Of course, Prinzessin, whatever you'd like." I smiled at him, knowing that things weren't nearly as bad as I made them seem. Things would be dandy; we would have a nice house, and get married together, and I could garden and we would never, ever have to worry about Nazi's, or being caught together, or be ashamed of our love.

"What kind of a house are we getting, Duncan?"

"I don't know, Prinzessin. I just know we're getting one in the countryside…what kind of a house do you want?" I sighed, giving it some thought. This was my chance to say whatever I wanted. This was my chance to give it my all and to express my true desires. This was my chance to be free.

"I want a nice, well-furnished house. Not too big, but big enough, to express the freedom I lacked for so many years. I want a big kitchen, so I can cook you the nicest meals I can manage when you come home from work without having to make a giant mess in a tiny kitchen. I want a grand, cozy living room with a victrola, a radio. I want wooden floors, and a special chair, for the man of the house," I paused to lay an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

"I want only two bedrooms," I continued. "One for us and one left alone, just in case we should have children in the near future. But I want a rocking chair in there; a big, comfy rocking chair. In our bedroom, I want a grand bed, and a dresser, and a dressing table, so I can brush my hair and put on make-up to look ravishing when you come home, and not disheveled from my duties as a house-wife." He chuckled, his arms around me tighter.

"That sounds lovely, my dear. Anything else you request, Prinzessin?"

"I don't want to live in the middle of nowhere, it must be somewhere close to a town, so I can go shopping in the market, and not have to grow my own food. I am not a farmer, nor am I willing to be one, so we must live somewhere remotely near a market. With everything else, I have no problem; I can cook, I can sew the clothes, I'll plant the flowers and wash the floors, and make the beds, and—" he cut me off with a chaste kiss and I made a pleasured sound, leaning closer to him.

"It all sounds very lovely, Darling. I've taken all of your requests to heart, and I'll go looking for a house within the month. Surely you don't mind staying another month or so, do you?" I shook my head. If we could have the house of my dreams, and the man of my dreams, I wouldn't have a problem with it at all.

"Good girl," he murmured, stroking my forehead. I hummed contently, snuggling close to his muscular body. "Don't fret, my Prinzessin, you shall have the house of your dreams soon," he cooed, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it softly before smiling.

"My mother's ring suits you well, Darling." I smiled, looking down at the beautiful ring adorning my finger. How his father could've picked out such a lovely ring, I would never know. It was simple, yet complex, ordinary, yet out of this world, plain, yet absolutely stunning. Sometimes, I swear it looked like a Princess's tiara; oh, the sheer irony. "It really does…" My bliss was soon cut short as I jerked upright and sprinted to the wastebasket, puking out my dinner into the abused object. And just when I had thought I'd gotten rid of everything in my stomach. Duncan was over in a flash, holding my hair out of my face while crooning sweet words in my ears. Once I'd finished, I looked at him glumly, my face flushed from the recent activities. He sighed, leading me over to his bed—since I was on the verge of collapsing-, and inspecting my condition, his forehead and eyes creasing in worry. He cupped my face lightly, continuing to inspect me thoroughly, his worried expression increasing all the while.

"Maybe we should stop at a doctor's before we get on the train…" he mused, clucking at my pale complexion and sudden unsteadiness. I nodded, wanting nothing more than to stop the horrid vomiting, and stomach pains, and vertigo, and unbearable fatigue and hunger. I needed to get rid of this flu immediately, before we would start our new life. Suddenly my stomach growled, and a familiar scent wafted through my memories, and it simply drove me insane.

"A-and a bakery too? I've been having the strangest craving for…it's going to sound silly…but I'm desperately craving some fresh-baked cookies," I asked rather childishly, unable to keep the blush from arising and burning shamelessly on my face. He laughed, lightly patting my cheek.

"We can buy anything you want from the bakery, anything at all, my love."

o 0 O 0 o

Now we were set to go. A plan in our minds, a goal to be made; all we had to do was buy a house, and pick a date. Duncan said that he would take a trip out of camp next week, in order to find a decent house somewhere in Switzerland. I was excited, really. Nothing could stop us from achieving our goals.

Our lives were going to be perfect, everything was in our favor. In less than a month we would escape, and get on a train to our new house, and we would furnish it so lovingly, to reflect our perfect relationship.

Groaning, I rubbed my stomach, trying to get it to lessen its pain. "Why the hell is this hurting me so much?" I growled, unable to stand the ridiculous pain not only my stomach was giving me, but my back too. Sitting up, I headed over to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes for the day.

It was unexplainable why I was feeling this way; nobody else was getting sick from the food, and I was eating more than them! And certainly I was gaining more weight, despite not being able to keep any food down, most days. It made no sense! Groaning when another pang hit my stomach, I lay a hand on it gently, moving it around in soothing circles.

Suddenly, I gasped, removing my hand almost immediately from my stomach. What was that? Did something just…? Apprehensively, I put a hand back on my stomach, moving it around gently, only to have my eyes widen in fear again.

_Did something just…_nudge_ me?_

Keeping an unsteady hand on my stomach, I continued to feel the tiny nudging, and fluttering, and small motions in my stomach. Without notice, a strong nudge hit me, making me bend over and clutch my stomach in fear.

_What the hell is going on!_

What was happening to me? What was going on inside my stomach! My food wasn't alive, and nor would it ever be, and it wasn't gas…and gas didn't nudge like that! Panting, I tried to scan my brain for _anything_, any explanation that would explain this logically.

"_Ahh!" Eliana groaned, holding onto her large stomach. I could do nothing but hold her hand and soothe her, wetting a dishcloth and putting it on her forehead. She tried to smile at me as a way of saying thanks, and I smiled back, excited despite myself for being able to help her. Usually she'd snap at me for not being able to do anything right, and I, only fourteen at the time, believed her. Mama told me she only yelled at me because she was pregnant, and her emotions were getting the best of her. _

"_How many more months till the baby is supposed to come?" I asked curiously, sitting up on my knees and frowning, noticing that the grass stains on my dress had gotten bigger; Mama was going to kill me when I came home…_

"_O-one," she panted, smacking her stomach lightly. "S-stop kicking, dammit. I don't care if your father is a Nazi. I don't care if he's an Olympic kick-boxer; JUST STOP FUCKING KICKING ME!" she yelled, startling me; I didn't know that it had hurt that much. Was she in much pain? And how could a baby kick so strongly from inside? All of this was unknown to me as I had absolutely no experience with babies; when Papa was alive, Mama refused to have another one—thinking about it, maybe this was why._

"_How can the baby kick so much? It's just a baby, it can't do anything," I said, matter-of-factly, hands on my hips and an 'I know everything' expression on my face. I was quite advanced for my year, education wise. She growled and grabbed the collar of my dress, pulling me close to her face. "Until _you_ have a baby, don't you _dare_ say squat about a baby able to do nothing. Understand!" she hissed loudly and I nodded feverishly, trying to keep her from lashing out at me. She released her hold and I stumbled backwards, simply picking at the grass after awhile. I didn't understand why she had to be so rude…I didn't know anything about having a baby, I was only fourteen, after all._

_After a while, she exhaled, her body relaxing some. She looked at me, idly picking at the grass, and sighed again, an apologetic frown on her face. "I'm sorry, Courtney. I didn't mean it…but the baby could be due any day now, and I'm cranky, and I didn't sleep last night because this damned thing kept kicking the hell out of me." I nodded, trying to understand her situation. _

"_It's okay…I guess I understand…sorry for being so ignorant…" she sighed again, sitting up and grasping my hand in her own. "You aren't ignorant, you just aren't experienced; and it's not your fault." I nodded again, still glum. She grinned at me, rubbing my hand gently. "Want to feel him kick?" she asked, as my face lit up and I nodded excitedly. She laughed and brought my hand onto her stomach, and I stayed quiet, and waited._

_And then it came. I'd expected it to feel like a butterfly, but it was much, much stronger. It was like a small thumping against her stomach, and I could imagine how it could be uncomfortable for her. Yet, I was intrigued. I moved my hand along her stomach on my own, smiling when the baby kicked where my hand was. This was amazing…it was magic…_

"_Wow…" I managed to say, giggling when the baby kicked my hand again. She kept grinning at me. "Yup; damn thing is a kicker. And I'm really sorry about snapping at you before…you're my best friend, Courtney." I gasped, a huge smile appearing on my face and I clapped my hands in joy. All this time I'd thought she hated me! "Really? But I'm almost three years younger than you!" She giggled, rubbing her stomach. _

"_Age doesn't matter, it's only a number. And yes, you are my best, and sometimes only, friend." I smiled at her, glad that I finally had her acceptance._

"_I'll watch your baby for you sometimes…I'll help you take care of it."_

"_If this damned thing ever stops kicking," she joked, slapping her stomach lightly again as if to chastise it. I frowned, wondering how she could talk that way about her baby._

"_Why do you keep calling him that? Don't you love him?" She laughed and rested her head on her stomach, kissing it softly. "Of course I love him, I'm his mama, aren't I?" She started to coo to her stomach and I smiled, not able to wait for the baby to come out.  
_

Shaking my head to get rid of the memory, I gasped. Putting a hand on my stomach again, I waited, praying for a miracle. "Don't kick…don't kick, don't kick," I muttered, shutting my eyes tight and praying to god that I had just…imagined it before; but the small thump that came a mere seconds later where my hand was proved me entirely wrong. It wasn't imaginary; there was a baby growing in my stomach.

No….

No, no, no, no, no! This couldn't be! I wasn't pregnant! I couldn't be!

Yet…I remembered how Eliana always vomited, and was always complaining of hunger, and she had strange urges for food, and her stomach swelled up like a balloon. Sighing in relief at the thought, I realized I couldn't be pregnant, for I hadn't swelled up like her.

…..Had I?

Looking around, and noticing that I was temporarily alone in the kitchen, I ran to the oven; the silver chrome would be just as good as any mirror. Hurriedly yanking my dress off, I stared at myself, tears filling my eyes as I gasped silently.

I _had_ grown bigger.

How long…how long could I have been pregnant? Counting down the months to when the vomiting had first started, I gasped yet again, tears trickling out of my eyes. Seven months…soon to be eight, in a week or so.

Why hadn't I swelled up like Eliana had! Why was I still so tiny! Realizing the answer quickly, I rested a hand against my stomach protectively. I was starving, and all the weight I had gained wasn't fat. It was a baby, growing right inside of me all the while, right under my nose.

"No, no, no, no," I sobbed, falling on the floor and holding myself tightly. Why? Why now? Why had I gotten pregnant? Hazily I thought to all those times Duncan and I had slept together; never once did he use protection. And if the baby was near eight months along…

Tears spilled steadily out of my eyes as I thought of the conclusion for that sentence. The baby wasn't even made from when Duncan and I had loved each other, or even liked each other. No…the baby was the result of rape. That first time…the punishment. I had been right; there was a child produced from the result. Sobbing steadily, I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want a baby! I couldn't give birth to one in the camp! It would be killed! Then what kind of a mother would I be? A terrible one, that's for sure.

I didn't want a child, and I would have no clue what to do with it. Duncan didn't want a child either.

Then it hit me, and I only sobbed harder. How on _earth_ was I going to be able to tell Duncan! He didn't want a kid! Oh…what if I told him and he kicked me out! What if I told him and he immediately stopped loving me? Sniffling, I realized I couldn't take that risk. Yet if he found out I'd killed the baby myself, he might get mad, and _then_ never wanted to see me again?

I didn't know what to do; I didn't know what to do! Resting a hand on my stomach, I rubbed it gently. The baby kicked in response as if assuring me that he was still there, and this wasn't some insane nightmare. "I'm so sorry baby….But…but I can't…I can't be your mother…" I sobbed, holding my stomach tightly. Oh…why now? Why now and not in years, when I actually wanted children, and was ready for them? The baby kicked again, as if to reassure me that everything would be alright.

Did I want this baby?

Startled at the thought, my first reaction was that I didn't want it. Of course I didn't want a baby! I was only eighteen! I didn't want a child for years and years, _after_ Duncan and I had our fill of married life. Then, when we wanted an addition to the family, we would sit down, and plan having a baby. That was the way it was supposed to go!

Yet another nudge inside of me reminded me that that's not how things were going. I was pregnant, and very, _very_ pregnant at that. Nothing would change that fact.

Why couldn't I want this baby? It was Duncan's, and mine's, and surely…we could make a wonderful creation. And I hadn't thought of getting married for years and years…yet we were going to get married now! Another kick from my stomach had me weeping softly, staring at my unborn baby in disbelief.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

"I'm sorry baby…so sorry…" I wept, pulling on my dress before standing up and beginning to walk.

A baby would never work out in the camp. I could never give birth and raise a living, breathing baby alone in the camp. Duncan would never want it. Not in a million years. I couldn't do it on my own.

Continuing to walk, I wept softly, holding onto my stomach and stroking it as an apology. "I'm so sorry I can't be your mama baby….I love you…but I can't…we'll be together soon," I sobbed, before getting into the line of miserable people. I faced the door, tears running down my face.

Never had I thought I would actually do this. Never had I thought that it would actually be my reality.

With all the courage I could muster, and still weeping softly, I entered the gas chambers.

**Sooo...Courtney...quite ironic how quickly this chapter came out after the little... 'incident' huh?**


	17. Telling Him

**Hey guys :3 Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait, but I had a ton of writer's block with this chapter. I know, you guys have been waiting forever for this, and I apologize for the lack of decent length. **

**Two more chapters till the story's done... :'(**

**Much love,**

**Ariel**

**...Review. Or else :p**

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it. How could I have survived? How come today, of all days, had the gas chambers not worked? Everything had gone along so perfectly, so according to plan. Everybody was forced to strip of their clothes, and then forced into a tiny, cramped room, with no window except for a tiny glass pane on the door. I'd been nervous, waiting for my death, but my baby kept me calm. My hands were on my stomach the whole time, and his constant kicking and fluttering made me believe that everything would be okay.

I had been ready to die.

And then we were all shoved out of the room, the guards yelling at us to put our clothes back on. People were praying to God behind me, thanking him for saving them from their deaths. Someone had muttered that the chambers were out of gas. My mind couldn't process what unfortunate luck had hit me, all I could focus on was my tiny baby who seemed to rejoice in my stomach; I almost smiled. Yet then I was overcome with misery; I wouldn't be dying today, and God knew I wouldn't have the strength or courage to pull this kind of stunt again. I was dejected, to say the least.

This meant I would have to remain pregnant for the next month, and then proceed to give birth to my baby. This also meant that I would have to tell Duncan about my pregnancy; tonight. I had absolutely no clue how the situation would turn out, yet I was almost seventy-five percent positive that he would most certainly not be pleased. How could he, when neither of us was ready for children? Especially this one, of this kind; a rape child.

Sighing in self pity, I brushed my hair out of my face and lay on my shelf, resting my hand on my stomach. Could I really hate my own child enough to kill him and myself? At the time, rash decision-making came into play, and I suppose I didn't play out my options very well. It wouldn't be right to kill my baby, despite how much I wasn't ready for him. Yes, I was positive that my child would be a boy, and he would look exactly like his father.

How was I supposed to tell his father in the first place? What was I supposed to say? What if he'd found out what I'd done a mere half hour ago. He'd skin me alive that was for sure. Suddenly, my hand flew away from my stomach in disgust. How could I love the one thing which would ultimately ruin my life? How could I love the one thing that was a monster, a ridiculous, improper, unloved creation?

I couldn't.

The answer was that simple. I couldn't love the one thing that would tear my life to tiny, minuscule shreds. Yet his birth was inevitable, as I doubted I would have the strength to attempt to kill myself again. Sighing, I ignored my festering back as I pondered how to break the news to Duncan. Should I just come straight out and say it? Or should I let him find out for himself?

Time was passing.

The clock was ticking.

Yet, after an hour, I still couldn't figure out a way to tell him, for fear of his reaction. I'd become dejected in that time frame, not really caring anymore for what was to happen and become of me. Surely, Duncan would not kick me out. He loved me, and we would make it through this together; we would just have to leave a little earlier than expected, in order to avoid the chance of me going into labor on the train.

Yet even with that said, I still felt dejected, as an awful wave of depression came over me; a kid, a freaking kid. Duncan and I were having a baby. I couldn't wrap my head around it, despite the baby's constant kicking. I still didn't want a child, yet there was nothing I could do about it. I would be forced to become a mother, forced to love this impure, unlovable creation. If I hated it so much, Duncan would surely hate it even more so.

When I looked up, the guard was at the door, and I slowly eased myself off the shelf, one hand on my stomach the whole time. I didn't know why I felt the need to be careful, the need to protect the poor baby. My lower lip quivered as I thought of my dear child.

I felt terrible for not wanting to be his mother, for not being able to love him. Surely it wasn't his fault, it was Duncan and mine's, and so why was it fair that our baby had to suffer the consequences? It wasn't fair that the baby had to be born into a family with unwanting, unloving parents, even though he himself hadn't done anything wrong, worth of such an undeserving family.

Because of my guilt my hand ended up resting on my stomach again, rubbing gentle circles on it as if to assure my child that he was okay. He would be okay; I was the one who wouldn't end up making it sanely. He would be loved, despite how forced that love may come out. He would be protected; as soon as we were in Switzerland, nothing would be able to hurt us. He would have the toughest father in the world, and the most doting mother. I wouldn't hurt my child purposely, despite my hate of him. I'd have enough gall to merely take care of him and attempt to be a good mother.

Upon seeing where my hand lay, the guard across my way sniggered, and I scowled, merely following him to Duncan's quarters. My insides slowly congealed with every step I took; one step closer to my lover finding he was to be a father. Not able to hold back a whimper, I shivered, and not from the cold. My thumb was soon reassuring my unborn son that he would be okay, that everything would be okay. Everything was going to be okay, everything had to be okay. There was nothing to worry about.

Yet with every step closer I took to my doom, I couldn't help but feel even more hopeless and dejected.

Duncan had opened the door for me, his mask of hatred on for the guard to see. I quivered, and it wasn't because of his performance. He grabbed me roughly by the neck, dragging me inside while screaming German curses and insults in my ear. I couldn't help but relieve myself of the couple of tears that wanted to escape. Once the door was closed, he let go of me immediately and chuckled at his own vicious performance, while I held myself tightly, about to explode from the knotted, astringent way I was feeling inside.

He took one look at me and his eyes eased, but still held their playful manner. He took me in his arms slowly; making sure my face was tilted upwards so I could squarely look at him in the eyes. "Did I scare you, my Prinzessin?" he asked softly, running his thumb delicately over my tear-stained cheek. Feeling as if I was about to throw up at any given minute, I merely stared at him, unable to answer. When I didn't respond and simply stared at him with wide, dull eyes, his eyes creased in worry. "I didn't hurt you too badly, right Darling?" His hands were then on the back of my neck, massaging it softly, thinking that physical pain was what was making me so off.

"I-I'm fine," I finally managed to say, lowering my head. Only he didn't believe me and forced my head upwards again, looking at me suspiciously. I cringed back, the look in his eyes made me believe that he knew everything that had done in the past couple of hours. Only he couldn't have. Could he? Slowly, I watched his expression contort into one of almost hopelessness, one of such worrisome that I nearly became worried for _his_ well-being.

"You….you know how much I love you..., right, Channa?" he asked quietly, his hands caressing my face in a loving manner. I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. Of course I knew he loved me; wasn't it blatantly obvious? "And aren't you happy enough with me? Do you wish for anything else?" Numbly I nodded, unsure if I would be able to speak at all, and having no doubt that he probably knew the sin that I had nearly committed.

"So…why would you do that? Why would you go…and kill yourself?" he choked out, pain and worry evident in his tone. I bit my lip; trying to hold back the tears I so wanted to shed. He knew; he knew I'd tried to kill myself. Now I had to tell him the truth. Yet I couldn't even force the words out of my unopening mouth; and because I remained silent, he had to continue with the words that stabbed repeatedly at my heart, nearly making me regret all that I'd done.

"Did you not think about me at all when you did it? Did you not think of how much pain I'd be in? Why! Why would you do such a selfish, stupid thing?" he started to yell, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me till my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head. I hadn't thought of him, not really. All I could think about was the baby and I, nobody else. He hadn't really mattered at that moment, and it was only now that I saw the damage that'd been done to him.

His usually concentrated blue eyes were wide and unfocused, overfilled with grief, and hurt, and pain; as if the past couple of hours had aged his eyes deeply. His poised figure was now shaky with such a jitter I didn't really know what to think. I was ashamed, deeply ashamed of what I'd almost done, and baby or no baby, this was going to wreck our relationship either way.

I looked at him numbly, trying to beg with my dull eyes to take pity on me, to stop treating me so savagely; I was ashamed of myself too, I didn't need the added grief.

"You were lucky! You were lucky that there wasn't enough cyanide to kill everybody!" I could see the tears glowing in his eyes, as he shook me harder then let me go completely, letting me tumble to the floor. "You…you…I don't even know what to say to you anymore. I can hardly look at you without wanting to…to…" he sighed in frustration, before slamming his fist into the wall next to him. My eyes widened at his powerful display, shocked at how my little stunt crumbled the wall of composure he so perfectly built and held for so long. He looked at me feverishly before crouching down next to me, taking my face in his hands and holding it gently, before kissing me repeatedly. "Do you not love me, Prinzessin? Are you not happy with our life? Just say so…just say so and I'll let you go. No strings attached, you can go off and live your life in peace. But please, just tell me that it was an accident, please tell me you still love me, please tell me nothing's changed. Please, tell me you were just trying to be a hero for somebody; I'll forgive you, I'll forgive you easily, just please tell me that you love me and everything's okay."

His words stabbed the dagger even deeper into my heart, as I just sat there blankly and let him kiss me, and desperately plead with me. He was so frantic to keep me, so anxious to hear that I still loved him, and that everything would be okay. Yet nothing was okay. Everything would change greatly. Before I knew it I'd started to cry once more, sobbing like no tomorrow. The walls were closing in on me, Duncan's words merely frantic murmurs that I couldn't even make out anymore. I couldn't see anything, I could barely hear anything. My breaths were coming out as short little gasps, in a pace so erratic I was so very worried that I would collapse.

_Nudge._

Somewhere upon my little panic attack, my hand had ended up on my stomach, and the tiny nudge I felt inside of me was more powerful than any of the ones I'd felt before. It was my baby that calmed me down, that stopped me from collapsing and going out cold. Even though the tears still fell down my cheeks, the sobs had died down, and now I was able to hear Duncan's words again. The walls were where they should be, and the thick layer of pressure above wasn't suffocating me anymore.

I could speak.

"Duncan, stop," I whispered, nearly begging him to stop his frantic pleading. He immediately did as I ordered and moved back, trying to give me some space to compose myself; I was grateful for that. Taking in a couple of deep breaths, I turned to my fiancée, and looked him straight in the eye. "It wasn't an accident, and I wasn't trying to be a hero to anybody. I didn't do it because I don't love you anymore, which is a preposterous assumption. I'm not going to say nothing has changed, because something very important has changed. But trying to kill myself was no accident, and I did it of my own free will."

"Then why did you do it?" he whispered, looking at me with a heartbroken expression. Taking a deep breath, I decided it was either now or never.

"Because I'm pregnant."

I couldn't look at him; I couldn't bear to look at him for fear of what he would say. Yet he was silent. He didn't speak for so long that I simply _had_ to look at him. He glared at me, bitterness evident in every feature on his face. "You're lying," he spat, his eyes unbelieving. Cringing slightly, and letting the tears roll down my cheeks, I stripped off my dress, raising my camisole just enough to show him my noticeably enlarged stomach. His eyes widened as he simply stared at it, a mask of disbelief evident on his face. Slowly, he brought a hand up to it, touching it with utmost delicacy. I felt the small nudge our baby had emitted, and his hand flew off immediately. Without another glance he stood and marched past me, right out the door before slamming it.

This was a reaction I hadn't expected; the only reaction I'd hoped would not come to be my reality. I waited, hoping he was just in shock, hoping that he would come back to me and apologize, and we would plan out what to do maturely.

But he never came.


	18. Time Away

**Okay guys, fast update, cause I wanted to fit in this lil important filler so I could finally put up the ending. More details on the ending and alternate ending down at the bottom. You don't read it, you might not get the ending for another month; your choice.**

**Enjoy :p**

One month.

One arduous, aching month he'd been gone. He wasn't in the camp; I knew that by the second week. He'd left, only a mere day after I'd told him the news. It had nearly killed me when I found out; I'd curled up on my shelf and simply lay there for hours, a lonesome tear running down my cheek ever so often. As long as I wasn't openly bawling, nobody really cared. It was quite obvious now to everyone that I was pregnant, what with the palpable swell in my stomach and my hands touching it nearly every other minute or so.

To say I was terrified would be an understatement; I was nearly petrified for what was to become of me. I'd been so aghast when they days ticked away quickly, leaving me closer and closes to the nine-month mark. Now I was about to finish my eighth month, and I was beyond fearful. I didn't know what was supposed to happen, or how to give birth, or where I was supposed to go, or anything! Would anybody e there for me? Would anyone assist me? Oh, the aching thoughts numbed my brain so terribly at night.

Feeling nauseas, I grabbed my bowl and lay it right beside me, just in case I needed to relieve myself in the near hour or so. Before I lay down once more another round of coughs overcame me, and my throat quivered with pain. I knew this wasn't a symptom of pregnancy; I shouldn't be throwing up so frequently now, I shouldn't be coughing so much, and I most certainly should not be feeling all the symptoms of a really dreadful flu right now.

"Could you keep it down? We're trying to sleep here," a voice I knew all too well snottily asked, and I narrowed my eyes, cranky enough not to back down from her insufferable pleas. "Oh, so now the devil speaks?"

"I'm the devil? At least I'm not carrying bastard, devil spawn." My hand flew to my stomach protectively, inwardly assuring my child that it was not bastards spawn, or devils spawn nonetheless. "Well then, that bastard, devil spawn is your grandchild; congratulations."

"That thing is not my grandchild; I disowned you, remember?"

"You can never disown family, remember that, dear mother. This child is my family just as much as it is yours; you can either shut your undeserving mouth and live with it, or I will come and beat whatever is left living inside of you, which shouldn't be much, you cold-hearted bitch." All was silent. She didn't speak again, or comment about my constant coughing all night, and I was grateful that I had finally acquired the nerve to stand up to her. It was about time.

When I was sure everyone was asleep, I sat up and looked down to where my child lay nested inside of me, smiling. "Thank you baby," I whispered, caressing my stomach fondly. "Thanks for giving me the strength to finally stand up to her." I received a small kick in response and my smile only grew fonder of the infant inside of my stomach.

Maybe the baby wouldn't be so bad; maybe it would be easy to love. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful to raise my baby in the camp; I would just have to make many sacrifices for him. I'd be able to teach him everything, and anything that I knew. I'd learn to love him, for I just had to, for I had to be his mother; biting my lip, I also realized that I was to be a single mother, the only parent this child would ever have, for his father had abandoned him.

"Don't worry," I whispered to my baby who'd nudged me. "Your Mama will love you and take care of you enough for a hundred sets of parents." That seemed to calm my child down, and my smile only grew, thinking that my son was to love me just as much as I loved him.

He'd have Duncan's piercing eyes, and his cool, calmed composure; yet he'd have my brain, and poise, and charm, just as I'd hoped I had. It wouldn't be hard to love this child, not at all.

** o 0 O 0 o**

Pushing the saw harder through the oak, I managed to chop off a decent, slender piece of wood. Picking the long piece up, I grabbed the sandpaper, and sat down on the stool, beginning to smooth out the strip of would. My mind was buzzing, and I couldn't stop it, no matter how hard I tried.

I knew my decision was wrong, no, it was beyond inhumane, yet I'd be going back to her soon. I had needed time to think, time to process what she'd told me; and meanwhile, I'd been furnishing and fixing up the small house I'd bought for us to live in.

Yet now it wouldn't just be the two of us; there was a child on the way, and by the long hours of consideration and speculation, I'd come to the conclusion that it shouldn't be too long before it made its way into our world.

I blamed myself entirely; it was my entire fault. I'd never thought to wear protection while making love to her, or raping her all the same; the thought had just never occurred to me. At the time, it seemed that nothing of this sort was humanely possible to happen. Chuckling bitterly, I sanded the wood a bit harder, taking my anger towards myself out on it. I was so stupid; of course conceiving a baby was possible. It was my entire fault she'd been suffering, month after month, carrying a child she hadn't even known about. It was my fault that I'd left her and temporarily burdened her with the pressure of having the child all alone.

What if the baby was to come early?

What if they were both killed before I managed to get there?

Scowling, I grabbed my carving knife and began cutting out the shape into the wood, before beginning to etch a pattern into its side. I wasn't being fair to her. I should've at least stayed there and told her I was leaving. Not leaving her, but leaving for her. Leaving to furnish the house I'd bought for her as a surprise; she wouldn't have known. I would've surprised her when I brought her home, to a fully furnished and perfect house, just as she'd requested.

Standing up, I threw the perfectly shaped and carved piece of wood into the pile of nearly identical ones, before continuing to walk to the chopping block. Back and forth I sawed, my chest feeling clammy and sweaty from the exercise and cold. Hopefully she'd take me back. Hopefully she'd forgive me, yet again, for the pain and sufferance I'd caused her.

Yet this time, there was no reason why she should forgive me so easily. I'd impregnated her with mutant spawn; a child that neither of us wanted. I certainly didn't want one, and she was sure she wouldn't want one until the near future. I couldn't imagine myself staying awake, night after night, waiting after some lousy, dirty, wailing infant. I couldn't imagine constantly wiping some snotty child's runny nose. I could never, ever imagine putting a little child to bed, and him or her kissing me goodnight and telling me how much he loved me.

Yet now I was forced to imagine; and the results weren't entirely softening to my judgment. I still remained firm with my decision; I did not want children, and I doubted that I ever would. The whole entire idea was unappealing to me. Yet again, I still had no choice in the matter, and neither did Courtney. It wasn't her fault I'd raped her; that was all my doing, and was even more of a reason to blame myself.

Honestly, I felt bad for her, I really did. She hadn't wanted children just as much as me, and she'd been caught by surprise; and so, because of her misery, she'd attempted to kill herself. I didn't blame her anymore; I would've done the same thing, had I been in her position. Yet now she was all alone, with nobody to take care of her, nobody to help her. With a final saw, a large chunk of oak fell, and I dragged it over to the stool so I could begin carving it.

I suppose once I was finished here I would go back to her, and hide her in seclusion so she wouldn't have to be at risk of getting killed. Yet right now, it shouldn't be too much of a problem; if she hadn't been able to tell she was pregnant, and I hadn't been able to tell, then certainly the other guards wouldn't suspect anything out of the ordinary. I didn't really understand why she hadn't filled out as much as she should have in her stomach, but I suppose it didn't really matter; I didn't really care whether the spawn was healthy or not.

Sighing in relief, I pushed the block of wood into the pile of pieces, before kneeling down beside it to begin assembling them. The house was nearly finished; with all of my labor, the kitchen, the living room, and the master bedroom was all finished, painted, and furnished, exactly to her specifications. The only thing left was the infant's room. Honestly, I didn't care what it looked like, or even if it was appropriate for a child; so I had been unsure what exactly to do for it. In the end, I painted it pale lavender all over, carefully making sure all the paint was evened out perfectly and colored and set to perfection. The floors were wooden, and I bought a small rug to match the color of the walls.

With a grunt, I lifted the finished construction, walking out of the shed and into the house, up the stairs and into the nursery. Putting the fixture down, I admired the room with a small scowl, unable to believe I'd put so much worthless effort into a room for a valueless child.

The child would never mean anything to me, nothing of any value; for it was nothing but an impure creation.

Closing the door behind me, I didn't dare look back at the dark, beautifully crafted crib with the skilled etchings, or the rocking chair that matched it exactly, placed only a few feet away.

** o 0 O 0 o**

"What do you think of Adam, sweet baby?" I asked my child, talking to him while simultaneously doing the dishes. I'd been muddling with baby names, trying to think up interesting combinations that mixed with different meanings. I received no kick in response to my question, so I concluded that my son didn't like the name that much. "You're right, Darling. I didn't find it very enticing either." Smiling, my peace was soon ruined by a fit of coughs that sent my stomach lurching. Having recovered, I tried to clear my throat, only to find that the task was much more difficult than it used to be.

"That's odd…" I mused aloud, receiving a kick in response. Smiling at my son's worry for his mother, a shook my head, unable to wait anymore for when I would be able to plant a kiss upon his darkly-haired head. "Nothing's the matter, baby, don't you worry. Now, what do you think of Eleazar, Eli for short?" I only felt a small kick, meaning that the name was tolerable, yet I should keep looking for a better one. "Mama's sorry she can't think up any good names right now; I'll find one for you, I promise."

It had crossed my mind once or twice to name my child after his father—as that was very common, and in fact tradition, in some cases—yet I doubted I would be able to look at this child for the rest of my life without being reminded that he was ultimately the one that ruined my almost-marriage to his father. Sighing, I pondered if Duncan were to ever come back to me. Surely he must miss me; yet after only a second's more consideration I quickly shut the idea down.

Shaking my head, I began to hum a song Mama used to sing to me when I was a small child, trying to remove such silly thoughts from my brain. Who knows if my child would be able to feel the depression I was sure to emit if I thought about it any longer; I certainly didn't want to take that much of a risk. "Yonatan, ha katan….," I sang aloud, the song having become stuck in my head after a couple of minutes singing it. "Wait a minute…that's it! Yonatan!" I exclaimed, the grin on my face going wider when my baby kicked me hard from inside, hopefully signaling that he liked the name.

"Yonatan, my darling Yonatan…I love you baby," I cooed, playing around with the idea of the perfect name. Receiving another kick, I giggled, only to have the giggle turn into such a ferocious round of coughs, I couldn't stop. After about nearly ten minutes of uncontrollable coughing, I looked down at my hands which had been covering my mouth, eyes widening and complexion paling upon noticing the red, sticky fluid that lay innocently upon them.

Blood.

"You!" I whipped around, finding myself face to face with a livid guard. "Were you the one coughing like that?" Afraid to speak, I mutely nodded, my hands immediately flying to my stomach as to protect my child from the German's wrath. This guard was new, and inexperienced, I could tell. He was young, and looked as if he didn't know any better. His eyes scanned my timid, frightened state, and made their way down my body, stopping at my stomach and glaring at it before turning his gaze on me. "You pregnant?"

"Y-Yes Sir."

"How many months?"

"Nearly nine, Sir," I answered, scared for mine and my sweet child's lives. He seemed to be contemplating what to do with me, whether to kill me off or not. My eyes terrified and wide, begged this young soul to take pity on me, to not send me to be gassed. I begged inwardly to God, begging him to not kill a precious, unborn soul that hadn't even taken its first breath yet.

For once, God seemed to listen to my pleas and take pity on me.

"To the hospital with you; I won't have to giving birth and disrupting the camp at any given day." Without another word, he grabbed my arm, dragging me off to what was known as the hospital. I calmed down some, knowing that I'd be in the care of a doctor, who knew what to do if I went into labor; my child would make it.

Yet the hospital wasn't nearly what I'd expected. For starters, it was filthy; grime and dirt covered nearly every other inch on the floor, rats ran around aimlessly, and I could see bugs flitting and scampering around. I had to resist the urge to run away at the very moment. The German dragged me around, talking to a lady in such rapid German I couldn't even make it out, even with the little that I knew. He kept dragging me past halls and corners, and finally into this tiny, dreary, solitary room. It had one cot that was barely clean, yet cleaner than the others, and a tiny, dusted up window.

"Wait here for the doctor," the guard barked, shoving me in the direction of the cot. I went over and sat down quietly, holding my stomach, and trying to get a hold on what my Yonatan was feeling. "Shh, it's alright," I'd soothed upon feeling a slight quiver. "Everything's going to be okay; you're going to be okay. You're safe now, don't worry." I honestly believed the words I'd emitted from my mouth; everything was going to be okay, I was safe now, nothing could hurt me.

A sharp knock on the hollow door alarmed me and I hastily allowed the doctor to enter. With an expressionless face, he had me take off my clothes as he examined me, his eyes growing more troubled all the while. He preformed some regular tests that I was familiar with, having remembered them as a child, and then some unfamiliar ones, most likely having to do with my pregnancy.

"How many months did you say you were pregnant?"

"Almost nine," I replied, tracing gentle circles on my stomach with my thumb. One look at the doctor's eyes stopped my movements as I tensed up, unprepared for what I was about to hear. "What's wrong?"

"You're terribly ill; you have a very high fever, you keep coughing because of mucus buildup, you're much to underweight to be that pregnant, and to make matters worse, your child seems to be sucking the life out of you." My eyes widened as my face drained of all color it had.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, unbelievably unprepared for the answer I was about to hear.

"If you give birth to this child, there's a very high chance you're not going to make it out alive."

**Ooh, big plot twist there huh? How many people expected that, huh? *raises hand, then looks around* Soo...just me, huh? **

**Now, let me adress the alternate ending. **

**Waaaayyy back in the time span of where chapter...3, or 4, I believe, was published, I concocted the true ending to this story with my friend Sarah; and then I wrote it. (Yeah, you should pity me; just think of all the editing I have to do...oy...)**

**And then, a couple of months ago, I had a thought; What if the ending were to take another turn? I was so conflicted about this thought, that I actually went back and contacted CalamityNow (yeah, how many of you remember my old beta for this story? XD) and consulted her about my dilemma. She said that I should go for it.**

**Now, some people are saying something along the lines of, "Oh, we don't want an alternate ending, cause it's not the real ending!" or "Ohh...because there's a alternate ending, this ending must be a tragic one."**

**Both of these comments are wrong on their own. **

**The alternate ending is not a 'fake' ending, in comparison to the 'real' one. True, the first ending is the one I had originally intended for this story, as it has such a better effect. But, it does not make the alternate ending any more 'fake' or 'real'. The alternate ending is simply a different way I could've gone, and I simply could not choose between the two.**

**Plus, with the alternate ending, you get a sequel; so stop your bitchin, will ya? XD Just kidding. But seriously; if you'd rather not have a sequel and alternate ending and see how a different course could go, hey, that's your choice.**

**Now; IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ OR NO ENDING!**

**This story currently had 346 reviews. Would it be too much to ask for 400, by the end? That would mean about...thirty reviews more or less for these next two chapters, because the alternate ending will be posted as a seperate story, as a prequel to the sequel.**

**So, I hate to do this, but; I want at least 25 reviews for this chapter, or I won't post until then.**

**Happy reviewing!**


	19. Das Ende, Meine Prinzessin

**Good evening, dear readers of this ending story. It is not the half point, the starting of a new day. As most of you may know, it is the ending of Hallows Eve, or Halloween, if you will. Some of you may be wondering why it took me so long when I had gotten well over the 25 reviews that I had asked for. Well, my explanation is simple. I wanted to update on Halloween, because as this is a horror story, if you will, and I found it to be a deeming day for this wonderful as an ending.**

**Yes, this is the final, and only chapter I will ever write more for this wonderful, blessed, loved story. The alternate ending will be posted separately, and the sequel will too. Dear readers, I'd never thought I'd see the day where I would have to bid my baby (this story) a farewell. Dear readers, I am crying as I type this, for this is the final chapter to my original story; Never had I thought that this day would come by so fast.**

**But alas, my loved readers, it is here.**

**So let us all celebrate the true ending (with tears ;'( ) of my story, and say goodbye, to what we know as Prinzessin.**

***inner mind* 'NOOOOOO I CAN'T DO ITTTTT! WAAHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT PRINZESSSSIIINNNN! WHAYYYYYY!' *conscience slaps inner mind to shut up***

**Now, without any further ado (*wailllsssssss*) I give you, the final, ending chapter, of Prinzessin.**

I clutched my locket as another round of heavy coughs overcame me. These were worse than the last, and left me feeling weak beyond repair. After all this time, my being had finally come to an end. This was it, this was what it truly felt like to be dying. Not from my broken heart, not from my pregnancy, but from some absurd sickness that Duncan had warned me about from day one.

I'm about to join you, Papa...I can't wait to see you again...so just hold on.

The thought rang through my mind as I bit back tears. Of course I was excited to see Papa again, after all this time, but otherwise I wasn't the least bit excited to leave this earth. Yet I was without hope for the future. Duncan left me, I was sick, and I wasn't going to be able to raise my little Yonatan.

Yonatan was my only hope. I just wanted to give birth to its angelic soul and be able to hold him once before I left this cruel, heartless world. That was all I wanted; was that so much to ask for? To be able to plant a kiss upon his firm, rosy cheek before I died? Wasn't that what every mother was owed?

Sighing, I rubbed my stomach, trying to focus on the positive. Surely I could hold on for a couple more days, right? Yonatan should come any day now, and I hoped I was going to be able to have enough strength to give birth to him. I had to have enough strength, I just had to.

More than ever, I wished to see Duncan once more before I died. I didn't understand why he acted the way he did when I told him I was pregnant. Sure...I'd greatly overreacted and tried to kill myself upon finding out, but I'd gotten over it and learned to love my son for who he was. He was mine, and he was Duncan's; together, we'd been able to conceive a wonderful, perfect offspring.

Again, I'd realized that age didn't matter. Age didn't make a mother ready, and neither did logic. It was love. Again and again, the answer was love. I wished I had enough energy to sit up and kiss my small baby's rump, but alas, I did not, so I continued to lay on the musty cot.

The peacefulness didn't last long as a feeling of nausea overcame me and I snatched my freezing bowl and began to retch into it. Once I'd finished, I pushed the bowl away and tried to calm down my quivering figure, yet another gut-wrenching cough overcame me before I had the chance.

Shivering under the thin blanket in my cot, I closed my eyes, rubbing my stomach gently. No use staying awake in cruel reality; much better to escape into the land of dreams and nightmares, where I could hopefully regain some strength for my upcoming labor.

Although it might be the truth, I would never, ever admit that my son could be the one that was draining the life out of me. Being sick didn't make my chances of survival any higher. Yet, strangely, at some point during these past few days, I'd come to terms with my death. I didn't mind anymore. What was there left to live for? Besides my baby, I couldn't think of a decent answer; and God knows I will try my hardest to live for him.

My little angel kicked and fluttered around anxiously inside of me and a small smile graced my lips. "I know," I whispered softly to my unborn child, "I want you to come out too." I let the tears freely run down my cheeks then. Was I ever going to see my child's father ever again? Would he ever forgive me? Why did he stay away from me? Didn't he love me anymore? The tears ran down my face faster, and I bit my lip as to choke back a sob.

Normally, I would have some rational, or highly irrational answer to each of those questions; but not this time. This time, I was entirely dumbfounded. I had no clue to what was going to become of me, and to be honest, it scared me. The thought that I could die at any moment kept me up at night, rubbing my baby's rump in order to make myself keep going, in order to prolong my death.

Feeling that Yonatan had calmed down with his frequent motions, I made myself more comfortable on my cot, closing my eyes. Desperately I wished to be able to fall asleep, to escape my reality. I wanted to run away to the land of dreams, where Duncan frequently appeared and took me away from my troubles for a little while.

I missed him; there was no doubt of that. I wanted him back; I wanted him to accept the fact that we were having a baby together. I wanted to know why he'd left me, and for so long. I wanted to yell at him so badly for the pain and anguish he'd caused, then pull him close and make him promise to never let go.

I would forgive him for leaving me; there was no point in staying angry with him when I wanted and needed him so damn much. I loved him so dearly, and I wanted him back, this very instant if I could. Yet I wasn't even sure that he was going to return.

Rolling over, and deciding that sleep was the real answer to my problems, I closed my eyes, hoping to reside with dreams, not nightmares. My hand trailed along my stomach absentmindedly, and after a couple of minutes, I managed to lull off into a peaceful, dozed state.

That is, until the door crashed open.

Deciding it was better to go back to sleep-hoping it would ward off a nurse, or doctor-, I let my eyes remain closed and tried to go back to the land of dreams; only my visitor didn't leave. My visitor remained breathing in the room, before I heard him or her sit down on the chair next to me. Curiosity finally eating through my desire to go back to sleep, I blinked my heavy eyes open, before smiling at my visitor and resting a hand over his own.

"Hi," I murmured frailly, trying to sit upright while keeping one hand on my stomach. He barely gave me one glance, before starting to pull things out of a bag that he'd brought with him, and wrapping his large jacket over my shivering frame. I was happy that he was back, finally back, and I didn't care what had even brought him here in the first place. Upon regaining some warmth, I peered at the things he was pulling out ever so carefully out of his bag; it took me awhile, but one my fuzzy vision cleared, I could finally see what he'd brought and I frowned.

"Duncan...those won't help," I rasped before starting to cough again. Upon regaining some of my original composure, and calming down my coughing spasms, I looked up to see him pouring out the pills from the bottle. My eyes widened and I shrunk back, shaking my head in refusal when he tried to put them in my hand. He sighed before shaking his head stubbornly and handing me a couple of pills along with a small cup of water. I merely looked at it, contemplating whether it was safe to take it or not.

"Take it Courtney, now," he ordered sternly, command and pure worry in his voice. I shook my head once more, still trying to decide whether these pills could harm my baby living inside of me.

"I don't know if these will harm the baby," I finally admitted, looking at Duncan while rubbing my stomach again for good measure. This only angered said man more as he took my hand and forced it off of my stomach, yet kept it in his own, rubbing it assuredly.

"Forget about that damned baby," he growled, pain in his eyes. "Take the fucking pills, they'll help you get better." I narrowed my eyes at him, understanding that he was still upset about the baby, yet I followed his orders in order not to infuriate him any more than he was already. I took the pills gingerly into my own palm and swallowed them, wincing when they went down.

"Good girl," he murmured soothingly as he helped me lay down again before tracing his fingers along my forehead tenderly. I let my eyes smile for me, as my mouth was to weak to do so. We sat there for a while, merely speaking to each other with our eyes. It was clear that he regretted his actions; 'I'm sorry' was blatantly written on every corner of his face. I could see that he regretted not being here for me, not helping me when I had gotten sick; he didn't need to voice his apology, I forgave him instantly.

Yet, for the darnedest reason, he still hated the baby. I didn't know why; why couldn't he love our precious creation? I'd learned to love him as he was, despite how much of an impure creation he was. Maybe once Yonatan came, and he saw him, he'd change his mind. He had to; he wouldn't leave me again...would he?

"That damn thing is killing you," he suddenly spoke, tracing circles on my limp hand with his thumb. My eyes weakened at his choice of words, and I closed them, trying to will myself to speak.

"Duncan, he's a baby, not a thing; and, he's yours," I spoke firmly, before wrenching out another cough that stung my raw, burning throat.

"If that thing kills you, it's not mine," he growled, causing me to tremble from anxiety. Could he really hate our Yonatan that much? Tears started to trickle down my dirty, clammy cheeks and immediately he sat closer to me, starting to caress my face and gently run his hand through my hair.

"Don't cry Prinzessin, you're using up your energy, please stop," he begged while I sniffled and coughed again.

Didn't he understand? I was just days away from giving birth to a baby, then dying. I was scared, scared beyond of belief of what was to happen. If Duncan was here now, that meant that he was my only hope to take our baby and raise it right, in my place; and if he didn't do that, I didn't even want to think what was to happen to our baby.

"Duncan...I'm gonna die. Baby, or no baby, I'm gonna die," I admitted quietly, my voice choking up some. I lowered my head and didn't dare look at his face, in case I didn't get to finish what I was saying. "But Duncan, you're just making the whole thing worse for me by telling me you don't want the baby. 'Cause, you gotta take care of our poor baby, you just have to." His eyes widened as he stopped all his affectionate movements and jerked back, gripping my wrists tightly. I cringed in pain, but he didn't seem to notice.

"No! Don't talk like that Courtney, you aren't going to die! Not if I can help it you wont. Please...just hang in there. You can have all the medicine you want, and I'll get the commandment to hold off for a week or two. He likes me, he'll listen. Just please, don't die on me..." he plead with me, and I could only I shake my head no, entwining my hand in his, then putting them both on my stomach. We lay there for awhile, not speaking, but just feeling the baby's sharp movements. He had tried to move his hand at first, but I kept it there firmly, just moving it in small circles on my stomach.

"He's gonna be so handsome, Duncan, and he's gonna look just like you," I cooed softly, more for the hearing of our son rather than Duncan himself. Duncan remained silent, starting to move his hand along my stomach on his own. I was glad, and I took this opportunity of silence to work my courage up and continue to reason with him.

"My life is over, Duncan. I can't live in a camp like this for the rest of my life, watching my friends and family die, living on the edge, just waiting to see if I'll make it through this week or the next. I can't risk running away with you and the baby, because we could all get in trouble, and we would all end up dead. I want to keep both of you living, and that would mean staying in the camp. And then I can't risk the baby losing it's mother after having her for so long. But he wont lose you..." I trailed off, hoping it was the right thing to say, and I'd made a convincing argument.

"You have to live Courtney, you just have to. What would I do without you?" I smiled feebly as he pleaded, turning my head and remembering when he'd first brought me to the camp.

"You'll never survive here, you worthless piece of crap. Learn some respect; I know it might be hard for you to do and all, Prinzessin, but if you want to survive, you better. Understood?" He growled while I tried to sit up, holding my stomach in pain while tears steadily ran down my dirty cheeks.

"Y-Yes sir," I stammered, and he smirked darkly for a moment but said nothing. Then, without any warning, he lifted me up, clutching me by the waist; I hissed in pain but he retaliated by slapping my face. He opened the door to the truck and thrust me out roughly by my long me along the dirt pathway, I stayed silent, trying to choke off the tears and let go of the pain that was nagging me so much; and that's when I opened my eyes, and saw what was to be my new home.

Numerous trucks and boxcars were scattered around the dirt roads, bunches of people and families being shoved out of them as roughly as I had, if not more. Continuing to look around, and scanning every single detail, I became terrified; what kind of a place was this? Large wire fences surrounded everything, making me feel trapped, much like a prisoner. Guards and soldiers were patrolling everywhere, giving my captor a sharp nod while snickering at me. Was it common for guards to take young girls as captives, I thought dully, not really caring about the answer either way. Suddenly I felt out of place, and terrified that I would never see my mother again. A sign off in the distance read 'work makes you free'. Water troughs were there, where horses were drinking. We passed by them, and I gasped in horror when I saw a dead baby floating atop of the water. The German squeezed my hand and as we got closer, I saw more dead, and I was suddenly glad that I had went along with this German instead of the others.

"Zur hoelle mit dir," he muttered viciously under his breath. I trembled, hoping he wasn't talking about me. He stood me up, and pushed me towards the crowd of people and began talking.

"You will be made to work here. You won't be treated like a Prinzessin, and you most certainly wont look like one. No guard will treat you as nicely as I've treated you." Nicely? I nearly snorted and was about to say something nasty, but held it back, in case he gave me anymore helpful instructions.

"You can't get sick here, under no circumstances. You get sick, you can't work, and they send you there." He pointed to a shed like place, only much bigger, and the chimney was spewing black smoke that smelled foul. It hit me then; the smokestack. Jews were burned up there when they couldn't work. I nodded gravely as a signal that I understood.

"You will be my little toy here, I've decided I shall keep you, Prinzessin. Every night, you will be escorted by other guards to my quarters. You shall not speak to them, and you will not be as disrespectful to them as you were to me, because they wont forgive you as easy and you will be punished. I shall do to you as I please, and you won't refuse, understood?" Tears leaked out of my eyes and I nodded, hoping things couldn't get much worse.

"You will not address me in any way, or engage in any conversation with me if you see me in the camp. I will shoot you, little duck, and you can be replaced easily. You don't understand how lucky you are."

Continuing to stare at the peeling wall, I smiled again, thinking how I'd been lucky indeed. I'd been so young back then, so inexperienced, so ignorant of everything. How so much could change within a year; I'd fallen in love with the one man I shouldn't have fallen in love with, and now I was about to have his child.

I'd grown, learned and hurt so much, it was nearly impossible to believe exactly how much. I loved Duncan so much, and now I was going to be taken away from him and our son; it wasn't fair. Yet I was positive Duncan could get along without me; he was a strong, fearless man.

"I'm just a little duckling, and can be replaced easily…," I murmured softly, letting a tear slip down my face. He didn't smile at my comment, but took his hand off my stomach and put it on my face, turning it so it faced him, caressing it gently and wiping away the lone tear briskly.

"You, Prinzessin, are not replaceable," he spoke earnestly, making a great number tears well up in my eyes; I closed them as to not let them fall. After replaying that same sentence twice more in my mind, my tactic failed easily and the tears streamed down my face rapidly.

I didn't want to die, although I was sure I would. I wanted to raise the baby, and I wanted to be with Duncan. I wasn't as strong as I'd tried to seem on the outside; I was just as weak emotionally as I was physically, and it wasn't just because of my baby inside of me.

"Prinzessin," Duncan crooned, wrapping his arms around my frail body and rocking me slightly. This only made the tears roll out faster, as I cried into his shoulder.

"I...I don't want to die…," I choked out, beginning to sob, not able to find the hate within my being to abhor the way I was acting at the moment.

"Of course you don't, nobody wants you. So be a good girl, and take your pills, and get plenty of rest, okay? I've been here too long, and the others might suspect something, so I must leave now." Hiding my displeasure in his statement, I managed a small not began to lay back down with his help. He bent close and kissed me softly on my pale lips, almost making me smile.

"I love you," he whispered softly in my ear before he left, dropping two pills in my hand but taking the rest with him in the process. I sniffled and turned over, hiding the pills securely before I closed my eyes and put my hand back on my stomach.

'You're gonna be some lucky baby,' I whispered to my unborn son.

o 0 O 0 o

Duncan didn't come visit me again. Without him, I was in complete agony as I missed him terribly for the two days I was without visitors except for the doctor. I was in complete misery; I was terribly lonely, my back was cramping up, and the baby kept kicking more and more often. I was crabby from mood swings and little sleep, and feeling like hell because I was sick. I vomited more than usual too, and couldn't keep anything down. Was this the end? Was this what it felt like to be dying?

'Easy Courtney,' I managed coached myself while trying to make myself more comfortable on my cot. This was just little Yonatan acting up and being like his father again. I wasn't dying, not yet, at least.

'You aren't dying, don't talk like that. Just get some rest, alright Prinzessin?' Duncan's voice rang in my head, annoying me slightly, yet comforting me all the more. He was right, I hadn't gotten much rest due to Yonatan kicking me sore the past two nights, but he seemed to have calmed down, so maybe now I could get some sleep gain some energy to fight this sickness. Closing my eyes, I ignored the cramping in my back and tried to fall asleep. No sooner had my eyes been closed for ten minutes, a sharp pain in my uterus made me spring up and clutch my stomach in fear.

"Ah, shit," I cussed as I felt the cot become wet under me.

To say the least, the next couple of hours were hell; I compared it to being burned alive. I lay on my cot in complete agony, shaking like a leaf while panting heavily. I winced and cried out in pure agony as a hard contraction came over my system. I couldn't bear this pain, I felt like I was going to collapse with every contraction that hit me, and each one got worse with every one that passed. It didn't take more than a couple of contractions to let me know that I wasn't going to live much past the delivery. Hell, if I even made it through the delivery, it would be a complete and utter miracle.

I sucked in another breath and clamped my teeth as my body stiffened, then relaxed when the sudden pain was over. The midwife came in-most likely due to my cries of pain- with a grim look on her face as she scanned and took in my condition.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? You...well, you might not make it," she inquired worriedly and gently, wetting a dirty rag and putting it on my forehead. I nodded feverishly, my hands clenching and unclenching from the pain; it's not like I had much of a choice now. I couldn't just snap my fingers, say I didn't want to have my little Yonatan anymore, and poof! the pain would magically disappear along with the baby that was ever so urgent to come out of me.

"Alright Dear, but you aren't ready yet. Just hang in there, you have awhile to go." I nodded blindly at her unhelpful words while my breathing became choppy and labored.

I wanted Duncan here so badly, I would've taken any part of him. I didn't care if he smacked me around and told me that this wasn't real pain, and I didn't know what real pain was like the first night we spent together. I didn't care if he told me to stop acting so stupid and to stop crying and be strong like all those other times before he loved me. I didn't care whatever part of him I received, I just wanted him here. I wanted him with me throughout the birth of our first, and only child. I wanted him with me, just helping in the best way he could.

I couldn't believe that a year ago, I had hated Duncan with all my heart. I had thought that he was a sick, good for nothing Nazi schmeisser. He had done every cruel trick in the book; he'd taken advantage of me, he'd fooled me, he'd embarrassed me, he'd even cut my hair and raped me, he'd made me pregnant, he'd done so many things to me that I couldn't even count them all; but I couldn't forget them either.

I knew that I'd succumbed to him from the moment he'd returned from that trip. I'd thought before I was only pretending to be so enamored by him, but it was only now that I'd realized it was the truth. I'd pondered over such things for many long nights, wondering why I felt such way, and why things had ended up this way.

Yet the matter of fact was; I didn't care anymore. I didn't care why, or how things ended up this way. I was only thankful. Thankful to the gods for having given me a man as tough as diamond, with a heart as good as gold-albeit the gold was sometimes tarnished, and needed to be polished. Yet I didn't mind having to be the one who polished it, and labored over it. Except that wouldn't be my job anymore; now that I was dying. It ached me, really, to think of somebody other than me taking care of my Duncan; I knew that he detested anybody looking after him, and I was the only exception.

"Achoo!" Eyes furrowing in concern, I rubbed circles into Duncan's shoulder, wondering what on earth had managed to get the man before me feeling under the weather. Really, never before had I ever seen Duncan so out of it, so disturbed by this wretched germ.

"You should be in bed and rest for a little while."

"And so should you," he retorted, plucking a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and proceeding to wipe my always-running nose. I scowled, feeling like a child, and swatted his hand away. "Don't do that, I can take care of myself, you know."

"Oh, Darling, I have no doubt of that, but I enjoy seeing your face contort when irritated." I scowled further, lightly slapping his uniform-covered chest. "C'mon, you heard me; bed. Now." He rolled his eyes, but I pushed him onto his bed, taking off his shirt, then shoes and socks, then feeling his forehead. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," I clucked at him. "You have a fever; you aren't getting out of bed for the night." He began to protest but I shooed his weak complaints away and made him get under the covers.

Looking around, I found a washcloth near the basin and wet it, wringing it free of pesky water droplets before bringing it over to Duncan and placing it on his forehead. "I wish you wouldn't baby me so," he breathed, yet his tone was more of gratefulness than annoyance. I laughed, stroking his pale cheek.

"That's what you get for having me as your lover."

"I couldn't ask for a better one. Thank you, Prinzessin."

Another contraction broke me out of my memories and I nearly screamed from the agonizing pain. Why did birthing a child have to hurt so much? Now I could see why my mother only had me. I couldn't understand how Leah had suffered through this so many times. Pondering these aching thoughts, I lay there, screaming for half an hour while my contractions came closer and closer together; previous memories and thoughts of Duncan pushed far, far away from my mind. Finally, after what seemed like days of pre-planned agonizing torture, the midwife came in, checked my status and smiled grimly.

"You ready to get that baby outta there?"

o 0 O 0 o

I hadn't bothered to unpack upon returning to my room; there would be no point. Truthfully, I didn't know what was going to happen now, what with Courtney being heavily pregnant and all. She didn't want to escape anymore, not with the baby on her mind every other fucking second.

And her sickness didn't make it any better.

If she hadn't been pregnant, she could've probably survived the accursed sickness. I couldn't believe it when the doctor had told me what happened. Hadn't I told her a million times not to get sick? I'd checked her every single time she came to see me, every single time for more than a year, to make sure she had no signs or symptoms of being sick. Yet despite all my grueling efforts, she had still managed to become ill. I blamed myself in every way that she had gotten sick. If I hadn't exposed her to the cold by having sex with her so many times, she might have not gotten a fever; if I hadn't had sex with her so many times, she might have not gotten pregnant and have her fucking life sucked out of her from that damn baby.

'Does the baby really mean that little to you?' I reprimanded myself, slapping a palm on my forehead. My own child, and I despised every part of it's hell-bound being. I didn't care about the spawn, and if it killed her, I'd kill it in return. I would have no mercy for the mutant thing.

I hadn't been to see her in a while, not for two days. She was probably miserable without anyone to keep her company-although, it was kind of hard to tell, what with her always talking to the baby inside of her. I wanted to see her so badly, but I couldn't risk blowing my cover and harming us both; God knows I would hate myself if that happened.

Just thinking about her state caused me to worry, and made little flutters erupt in my stomach. They weren't knew, they happened every time I thought about my love; I loved Prinzessin; I loved a Jew. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd say that. The way I felt about her was unexplainable, really. She made me regret everything I'd done that was bad. She made my heart stop. She made me smile and brought out the best and worst in me. She was so beautiful, I had to look away sometimes, because I was not worthy of her purity.

Yet, she was so insecure of herself. I knew she avoided looking in the mirror as much as she could, for when she did, it scared me how she looked at herself, with so much sadness, and pity. I knew she mourned what had become of her once-full figure, and luscious, soft hair. Yet those trifles meant nothing; for to me, she still looked beautiful.

I knew I couldn't live without her; why she was so keen on letting herself die was unknown. The way she made me look forward to spending time with her, and her sparkling personality made my life complete. I loved hearing her talk for hours on end; I loved hearing about her old life. These were the memories I held onto, and I yearned to make more. As long as she kept living.

I'd wait about an hour longer before going to see her, I concluded. It was pure agony sitting here alone and thinking about her, and surely she must be more so, for she was in pain as well. Everybody should be asleep for an hour, and I could take the night shift at the hospital, and visit her. I couldn't wait to see her, even in her pregnant, sickly state.

The clock was the only thing that kept me company in my solitary, gloomy, unwelcoming room. The constant tick-tock reminded me that I was minutes, even seconds closer to seeing Prinzessin.

Finally, when an hour had passed, and I heard the silence surround me instead of the people drinking and partying, I slowly crept out of my room and nearly ran to the hospital. I quietly scuffled through the dark hallways, finally reaching Prinzessin's room and thrusting the door open as quietly as I could. But the sight that greeted me left me shocked and paralyzed in my spot.

Prinzessin was sitting up, very weakly I noted, cradling a slightly squalling bundle in her arms. I knew I hadn't made any noise that announced my entrance, yet she looked up at me and smiled warmly before beckoning me forward. I moved as if on autopilot, and sat soundlessly on her cot. She raised the squirming bundle, as if wordlessly asking me if I wanted to hold it. I gulped but shook my head no, still quite shell-shocked. I forced one arm around Courtney, rubbing her bare shoulder with my calloused thumb while refusing to look at the infant's face; I didn't dare want to be sucked into the reality of the situation.

"How are you feeling?" I asked hopefully, thinking that all she really needed was a little rest before gaining her strength back. She turned to look at me in order to respond to my question and upon getting one good look at her worn-out face, I already knew the real answer.

"Just tired...it really took a lot out of me," she answered sullenly while resting her limp head on my shoulder. I lowered my head and gently kissed her hair, ignoring the fact that it was matted and sweaty from the delivery.

"Shh, don't talk like that my Prinzessin, you can't leave me yet." She didn't answer, but I watched as she put a finger to the fussing baby's mouth and the thing quieted down instantly, beginning to suck on the finger gently. Unfortunately, I caught a glimpse of the infant and couldn't resist smirking at the fact that Courtney had been way off.

"So, it's a girl, huh?" I questioned, unable to help the mocking tone in my voice. Courtney smiled, and chuckled softly before it turned into a real heart-wrenching couch. I gently clasped her on the back as she coughed into her hands, and though she pulled her hands away quickly, I caught the sight of blood, making my eyes widen and my worry increase, tenfold.

"Yeah," she feebly answered my previous question. "Although I'd really expected a boy...what with all the kicking she'd given me. But what can I say? She has her father's strength," she cooed softly, bringing the baby upwards so she could plant an affectionate kiss upon her it's tiny head. "But she's also an angel, and she has your eyes," she continued, tracing her thumb slowly on it's apple-sized head. I didn't want to look at the aforementioned infant; I didn't know what would happen, and honestly, I was quite scared.

"You okay?" Prinzessin hesitantly asked upon not receiving a response, pulling back to look in my eyes. I looked down quickly and she lifted my chin in order for me to look in her eyes. As soon as I looked into those onyx orbs, I melted and almost started to break down; her eyes were tired, worn out, dull and gaunt. And at that moment, I knew she really was going to leave me, pretty soon too. After everything, after all my attempts to help her get better, she was leaving this cruel world.

"I'm fine," I managed to choke out as to not worry her. "You look tired though, you should rest a bit if you want to get some strength back." Upon speaking these very words, she looked hurt, and tightened her arms around her child protectively.

"But you just got here! You're just going to leave!" she argued hysterically while looking as if she was about to cry. Figuring her hormones were still acting up, I turned slightly and put a finger on her mouth, silencing her. After a few moments of silence I began to stroke her hair, watching as her eyes began to glisten less and less.

"I promise I'll still be here, I'll be here as long as you need me. Just get some rest, only an hour or two to get your strength back up," I reasoned and she seemed to see the logic in my words. As she started to lay back down I gave her a peck on the lips that made her smile immediately. I kept stroking her hair as she began to close her eyes, beginning to look more worn out every second. She fell asleep after a few moments, and I constantly had to check that she kept breathing. It seemed almost forced, and I cringed slightly, knowing that she was forcing herself to keep living when she was about to die at any given second.

After a few minutes, the bundle in her arms started squirming again, and no sooner had I noticed that, it began to wail; probably missing the attention it got from it's suffering mother. What a selfish, spoiled creature; it's mother was about to die, and here it was, begging for attention. I nearly defenestrated the poor infant. When the wails increased in volume, I frantically looked at Prinzessin, hoping that didn't wake her up, but she seemed like the dead. Making sure that she was still breathing, I leaned over, grabbing the wailing bundle out of her arms and standing up, walking over to the other side of the room in order to reduce the chance of Prinzessin hearing and waking up. I bounced the infant slightly, trying to shush it. I refused to look at it, the selfish, spoiled thing; the thing that would ultimately cause it's mother's death. Yet, after awhile, the thing in my arms quieted, and curiosity out-won my hatred as I decided that one look at my daughter wouldn't hurt me.

Little did I know, that what I was about to see would change my life forever.

Her eyes were closed, but that didn't detract from her appearance one bit. She looked almost exactly like I was sure Prinzessin had looked like when she was an infant. Her freckles stood out from her fair complexion, one that exactly matched my own. Her fair amount of hair was dark brown, much darker than Courtney's, yet lighter than my own, and it was curled, something that I assumed came from Courtney's side of the family, yet it was so beautiful I had to touch them, amazed by how soft they were. Looking at the rest of her features, I frowned, eyes furrowing in worry as I noticed how tiny she was, compared to the few other newborns I'd seen.

"You're so tiny," I whispered softly while continuing to run my thumb lightly over her soft curls. "Will you open your eyes for Daddy, Angel?" I asked her quietly, lightly tickling her stomach to urge her. What shocked me even more was that she responded to my question immediately, her wide, blue eyes springing open within an instant. She blinked at me, and within that moment I could tell she knew who I was. She cooed in response, and I shifted my arms as to hold her like Prinzessin had. I bounced her lightly and smiled; she was so precious, so adorable. She made me feel exactly as Prinzessin had; happy, carefree and like nothing could go wrong. Yet, how could I take care of her?

I ignored the disturbing question as I held her, feeling very….strange inside. I'd killed many babies when I first joined this hell-hole and felt absolutely nothing. I'd come up with many, many reasons and denials to excuse myself. Later on, when I saw the torn families, and knew that those babies would never grow up to become something, I felt a bit guilty, but pushed the thought aside knowing they were Jew babies and would probably have no chance of survival in the camp anyways. But now looking into the face of my beautiful baby daughter, I felt everything. Joy, guilt, regret; I could never kill this beautiful little creature.

Was this how every father felt about their daughter? Or their son? At that moment true, pure and utter guilt and some awful sensation that I couldn't name immediately washed over me, and I clutched my daughter closer to my chest as if to protect her from a Nazi that would come in at any given moment and steal her away from me.

"Don't worry, I won't let them get you," I whispered to the cooing creature in my arms while stroking her brown curls. I held her for god knows how long, just looking into her eyes and rocking her gently. She made everything seem timeless, and for that time period that I held her, I even forgot about Courtney dying; at least, until she woke up, coughing her poor heart out into her weak, trembling, pale hands.

I immediately clasped her hard on the back, trying to get her to get it all out, trying fruitlessly to make her better. By the time she finished, her hands were all bloody, and she was shaking all over. I helped her lay down, trying hard not to accept the fact that she was leaving me. Despite the fact that she had been nearly dying a few moments ago, she smiled when noticing that our daughter was in my arms.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" she asked quietly, reaching over to lay a finger onto the curious baby's cheek. I meekly nodded, tears starting to form in my eyes from the sight of her, pale and weak as she was. I bit my lip and turned my head, almost forcing myself not to cry.

"Please, don't die," was all I could say to her at the moment. Though I knew my pleas were useless for she was going to die, she was going to leave me.

"I'm sorry Duncan, I'm so so sorry," she whispered to me while I fought hard not to cry and began stroking her face, trying to get at least one of us to calm down. She motioned for me to hand her our daughter and I did, hesitating in the slightest, not really wanting to give up my angel, yet I knew the child should spend the last few moments she had with her mother. Prinzessin held her to her chest as she started to cry, and this time, for once, I let her without any reprimand. I lay next to her on her small cot and wrapped my arms around her, not saying anything as she cried, fighting hard to be strong, for her.

"Duncan...I don't want to die..I really don't...but I can see Papa already, and he's really happy and he wants me there with him more than anyone. He thinks our daughter is beautiful too, he's so proud of me, like I've always wanted," she said, choking on her sobs only a little. I choked back a small sob of my own as I moved her head so it lay on the crook of my neck, wanting to ask one more thing of her.

"And me? What does he think of me?" My voice cracked, and for once I let it slide instead of criticizing myself for being weak; right now was a special circumstance. She used what was left of her energy to turn to look at me and smile, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"He's proud of you too. He loves you Duncan, because you love me. He thinks of you of his own son, and thanks you for helping me here and for giving me our daughter that will live on in my presence." My eyes welled up as she spoke the first sentence. It took me all my will power and several years of harsh emotional training as to not start bawling right then and there. How could her father love me? I'd killed people, I'd raped his only, precious daughter and made her life a living hell. I'd impregnated her, and forced her through a labor that was killing her right now.

"Duncan, please, take care of her. As my dying wish." I couldn't do anything but nod, I couldn't even speak; my voice was too choked up. This was it. She was leaving me right now. This was the last time I'd hear her voice, or see her beauty, or stroke her hair or kiss her or anything. I wiped my eyes frustratedly, even though no tears were falling yet. She kept crying and she looked into her daughters eyes one last time and lay a kiss on her forehead and squeezed her tight before handing her to me.

"What do you want me to name her?" I asked quietly, realizing she hadn't named our daughter yet. She smiled warmly before nestling herself closer in my arms and kissing my arm.

"You'll figure something out." I bent down and lay my lips on hers, wanting one more kiss to remember her by. She used up her remaining energy to kiss back with full force and passion, and I didn't let my mind concentrate on anything other than to give her and myself one last kiss to remember each other by. She pulled back first, smiling in satisfaction and slightly falling out of my arms to lay back further on her pillows. I let go of her and helped her be more comfortable when she went.

"I love you Prinzessin. You're my only one, my special little Channa." Her eyes widened slightly as tears welled up in her eyes once more.

"I love you too, so much Duncan. Thank you for everything, shmendrik German," she said with a small smile, closing her eyes as she went limper by the second. I kissed her on the forehead and she kept smiling in satisfaction. I counted the seconds, tears welling up in my eyes once more, until she stopped breathing and fully went limp. 60, 60 seconds. She had died in one full minute.

Courtney Esther Politzer had died. Channa Esther Politzer had died. My Prinzessin had just died, as I watched. This kept repeating in my head as I looked into her gaunt face, wishing she would come to life any second and say this was some cruel joke on me. She didn't. She kept still as I put my arms on her limp body and refused to believe it, shaking my head.

"No...no, no, no, no, no! Damn it!" I yelled, suddenly infuriated. Why! Why had the one fantastic thing that had come into my life gotten taken away! Damn it, damn it stupid karma. I knew it, she wouldn't last; I'd done so many awful things in life, of course I couldn't keep Courtney. I looked towards the chair, where I lay the child, and the bundle was starting to squirm and squall around, probably missing the mother she had just killed.

The mother she had just killed.

The mother it had just killed.

It killed her. The damn baby had killed her, just like I told her it would. Eyes narrowing, I forgot immediately everything that had previously happened, except for Courtney dying. Screw how pretty it was, screw that she was mine; that damn baby had killed her. Monster. Fucking monster.I considered drowning it, or killing it myself; but I couldn't do that. Despite that I hated it, I couldn't kill my own daughter. I went over the chair that I had left it in and picked it up, cradling it gently. With all my might I looked into her eyes and that quieted her instantly.

"A pretty baby like you should be with it's mother," I crooned with the softest voice I could muster. I held her until, tired, she fell asleep, blowing raspberries. I ignored how cute that was, and lay her in Courtney's dead arms. I looked at them once, without even bothering to kiss either of them goodbye or to tell either of them an apology, and then I left, not bothering to look behind me. I walked quickly, reaching the rest areas of the kommandos, and knocked on their door impatiently. One of them answered and I put on my most expressionless face. I explained the situation and he left quickly along with one of his comrades to take care of it.

I kept walking, trying to clear my minds of all my disturbing thoughts, especially ones concerning what I had just done. I stormed into my room, breathing heavily, cursing, kicking, ripping and tearing down every single thing I could. And when everything in the room had been ruined, my eyes widened, realizing what I'd just done. I crumpled on the floor, my stomach aching so fierce, I thought it would kill me. That's when the tears fell down my cheeks, and the sobs had began escaping my throat.

If anything in the world could make me cry, sending my daughter to her death would the only one.

"Channa..." I sobbed out. "I...I should've named her Channa..."

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	20. Epilogue

**so...maybe I sorta half lied when I said the ending was the last chapter ;) Here, is the epilogue to this story, as some of you would like a happy ending :D**

**Merry (early) Christmas, dears :D**

Three years.

Three years she'd been dead, and I'd only followed suit in her path, three years later. I had no regrets for dying; I'd fought hard, and it was only fair that I lose. I was a monster, after all. All of us were.

After Courtney had died, I'd gone back home. I wouldn't kill anyone else; I was a monster in the worst kind, and I wouldn't be committing such crimes anymore. My father was happy to have me home, and demanded long, winded stories of my time in the army. I wouldn't talk to him; I went upstairs and considered hanging myself, just to be with Courtney and Channa.

I'd often wondered if I would join them up there, in heaven. I was still waiting, in the purgatory. They had taken all my life into account, and had told me that the answer would take a number of days to receive. So I'd been stuck in the purgatory, for a week, just waiting to hear that I'd be sent to the deepest, darkest corners of hell. It was inevitable, I knew that, but it didn't matter. I knew I'd never be forgiven and allowed to be with Courtney and my daughter again. I knew I'd committed too many times to be allowed such a significant, meaningful privilege.

"Duncan James Ehrlichmann." I raised my head from my palms and looked up at the shadowy figure calling my name. My eyes were dull and bland, merely waiting for the words to be spoken. I was going to be hopeless and alone for the rest of my life. "You've made trial. We've taken your being into account and have come to a decision that you will be put on a trial period. You will go up above, and prove yourself worthy of staying there. If you do not prove yourself worthy, you shall be sent straight down, never to return upward again; is that clear?"

"Yes Ma'am," I spoke, my body rigid, waiting to hear the words that would drive me over the edge, the words that proved that what she was saying was too good to be true; too good to be real. The shadowy woman glared at me, giving me a once-over before pointing to a door that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Nobody else besides me had noticed the door, and I stepped through it with ease. Remembering that I should thank the woman, I turned around, only to find that the door had vanished, leaving me in this unfamiliar, undeserving (of myself, that is) world. I turned back around, only to become wide eyed at my surroundings.

I didn't want to take note of it, nor remember the beautiful scenery that met my eyes, because I knew I didn't deserve to be here, much less stay longer than necessary. I walked around for a little while, unsure of my surroundings, before coming across a pretty barren area, situated with only a stump. Deciding it would be the most deserving of a schmuck such as myself (I remembered how Courtney had teasingly called me that once, and only now did I realize that it was the truth) I sat down, burying my head in my hands.

Why had they put me here? Didn't they take notice that I had been a Nazi? Didn't they see the large stamps displaying of how I had killed hundreds of people, not excluding women and children? Didn't they especially take notice of how I had been the one to send my daughter to her death? Sucking in a deep breath, I waited until the stinging had lessened. Every single time I thought about little Channa, it would seem my heart would be slashed yet another time. That was my biggest and ultimate regret; killing her. I didn't deserve to see her now, even though I would've given up everything in my right to see her once more, and to apologize for the crime I committed. I just wanted to hold her once; to whisper that I loved her, and that I was so, so incredibly sorry for what I had done to her poor, innocent soul. Groaning, I knew the stinging feeling wouldn't disappear anytime soon, and buried my face deeper in my hands, knowing that I was deserving of the pain.

"What do you have to groan about?" And when I lifted my head the stinging had swelled a thousand fold, as I looked into the face of the woman I loved with all my heart. She was different; almost entirely different. The last time I'd seen her, she was gaunt and dying. Her body had been devoid of nearly all muscle and fat, most of it had gone to the baby inside of her. Her face had been pale; then tan complexion having faded since long ago. And most importantly, she had looked at me with all the love in the world.

Now, she was so different, I nearly cried at the sight of her; she was that beautiful. Her body was full figured, all the curves in all the right places, and so flawless it seemed illogical. Her eyes gleamed with such a spark that I remembered, and if it wasn't for the hostility in every single aspect of her features, I would say she was glowing, and the epitome picture of health. And her hair…damn, I'd never remembered her hair like this. It was long again; I barely remembered her with long hair. But overall, she was beautiful, and it broke my heart.

Except for one little aspect.

This time, she looked at me with all the hate in the universe.

"Prinzessin…" her eyes sparked, and before I knew it she'd come forward and slapped me straight across the cheek. It hurt; oh, it fucking hurt. She'd only slapped me once other than this time in our lives, but this hurt ten times more; and especially because I knew I deserved it. I hung my head in shame, not even bothering to try and lessen the stinging, burning pain on my cheek.

"I don't _ever_ want to hear you call me that again, you selfish, inhumane, _beast_." With every word that came out of her mouth, it felt like somebody was shooting me in the heart, over and over and over again. I didn't know what to say to her; I didn't know if I could say anything that wouldn't end up with her massacring me. Honestly, I didn't blame her.

"Courtney…I…I…"

"You what? Broke your promise to me? Proved that I was worth _nothing_ to you? Took my one last request and shoving it in my dead face by killing our daughter? The daughter who'd loved you, so very much, despite what you'd done. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? No, it clearly wasn't, because you'd disrespected us all. What else could you possibly have to say?" Every word she spoke about little Channa nearly sent me into a fit; one that I was sure I wouldn't be able to come out of for many hours. I felt the worst then, just thinking about how I'd hurt her and Courtney both.

"And you know what else? I told her. As little as she is, I told her you killed her and sent her here, because she's a smart baby, and she deserved to know about the brute her father is." My eyes closed, fighting back unwanted tears at those words. Could I ever see my daughter again? Did she hate me now for killing her? How old was she, anyways?

"I know you're angry with me…I know what I did was…unspeakable. I know I have no excuse…but at the time I was angry, and it was her fault, and I thought she deserved it—"

"_She deserved it!_" That was all she needed to say before she jumped on me, punching, kicking me to a point of senseless pain; that's how unbearable the pain was, I couldn't feel it anymore. I didn't fight back, or resist her abusive manner; I deserved it. I deserved it all. "You stupid asshole! You sick German schmeisser! That was our baby! The baby I died giving birth to! The baby I trusted you with! How could you kill her! How could you live with yourself! I expected you to kill yourself soon after, maybe that was your motive, so we could all be together in here. But no! You kept living! _Three fucking years you kept living!_" She paused here to punch me in the face and knee me in the groin. "You cried, and you cried, for hours on end! You should've killed yourself! I would've forgiven you if you did! But no, you died in battle, like the _perfect_ fucking soldier you are. Isn't that right, Honey? Well _fuck you_!" She punched me again, finished with her ranting for the moment. Her chest heaved up and down heavily, unshed tears shining in her eyes.

Oddly enough, I wasn't bleeding, or injured in any way. The pain was still there, but I wasn't really harmed. I suppose that's how it works up here. My mind whirled around with the words she had spoken to me; I knew she'd hated me. It was that obvious. Sighing, I clutched my stomach where she had punched me, trying to ease the pain. "Is…she here? With you?"

She snorted, standing up—and making sure she stepped on my stomach in the process. "Of course she's here. But you aren't going to see her. Not now, not ever." My heart shattered at these words and I hung my head, knowing I deserved nothing less. I killed my daughter; I didn't deserve to see her. "How'd you even manage to get into here, anyways? I thought you'd be first in line to get into hell."

"I…I don't know…I was in purgatory for awhile though…she said something like I'm here on trial…"

"You don't deserve to be on trial. You deserve to rot in hell you slimy, sick bastard." I nodded my head, standing up and closing my eyes. "I know. You don't have to tell me that what I did was wrong. I already know that."

"Oh, really now? I don't think you do. You… you sent our daughter to her death…you broke your promise to me…I thought you loved her…"

"I did love her! I still do love her, I really do! I'm sorry! I know it was the wrong decision! I was angry, okay! She killed you! She killed you Courtney! I didn't mean to end her life! It was such a terrible decision…and I regret it…so much…" One look at her face and I knew that my words made no difference in her livid tirade. I knew my apologies were futile. I'd killed our daughter…there was nothing I could do about it. I should have killed myself, I really should have. It would have been the fair thing to do. I knew my words would not have mattered to her. I knew I was never going to be able to see my daughter again; so why wasn't I being sent to Hell now?

"There's no way you could love her. You killed her. You killed my daughter and denied her a life she was owed to have. I suffered _nine months_. _Nine freaking months_. That's how long I suffered, and she didn't even get a life out of it. What did she get? A one way ticket to death. I don't care how much you regret it, you killed her, and it was wrong. She should've been enough for you. She should have kept you happy. But she wasn't good enough for you, was she? Just like me. I meant nothing…" the heartbroken look on her face was just too much for me to handle. My face saddened as I took a step towards her, embracing her close and planting a kiss on her lips before she could even comprehend what was happening. She pulled away almost immediately, almost, and stared at me with a hurt expression, before bringing her hand up and smacking me straight across the face. It hurt, yes, it hurt a lot. But it didn't hurt as much as the previous one. It seemed, more saddened and halfhearted rather than hostile.

"J-just….go away…you stupid…jerk..." her voice was choked up with unshed tears, and I desperately wanted to console her. Yet I pushed the feeling back as I stared at her. "I'm not going until you let me see Channa." She glared at me, almost daring me to say that again.

"You're not getting anywhere _near_ my baby." I glared right back at her.

"She's mine too."

"You killed her. You have no say in seeing her."

"I know I killed her! It kills me enough as it is without you rubbing it in my face!"

"I deserve to rub it in your face! You betrayed me, you betrayed us! You killed everything we ever had!" My eyes widened, sucking in a breath.

"I know. But I still love you." Her eyes widened for about a second before she glared right at me. "I hate you, and I'll never, ever, ever forgive you." My eyes saddened, having never expected her to _never_ forgive me.

"There isn't anything I could do to change your mind?"

"No. You chose your fate when you called those stupid men to kill her. We're through. Forever. And you will never see her ever. Not once. You've hurt her enough. I hope you're happy with your life as it is, because that's the way it's going to stay. Goodbye, Duncan." And with that said she began to walk away. My heart started beating, to the point where I couldn't see straight, not able to continue here without Courtney and Channa. Blindly I grabbed her arm, desperation clearly written all over my face.

"You can't do this to me! You can't leave me! You can't! I'm nothing without you!" She scowled at me, trying to pull her arm away. "If we really meant something to you, you would have done everything in your power to be with us again.

"Stop being such a bitch about this! I fucking love you! I said I'm sorry, and all I want to do is see her again! I want to apologize to her! I want to see her pretty little angel face again! Just once!"

"You aren't in control of me anymore. I'm in control of you. You aren't going to see her, and that is final. You're lucky I'm even talking to you right—"Suddenly she whipped her head around, eyes wide in alarm. Faintly, I could hear the constant pitter patter of tiny footsteps, coming nearer to us.

"Mama! Mama!" My eyes widened, and I braced myself. Could it be….? This tiny little thing was running towards us, waving frantically, a huge smile on her face and bunch of flowers held tightly in her tiny hands. As she ran closer, I knew immediately who she was. Her wide blue eyes shone brilliantly on her pale baby face, going along perfectly with the broad smile she was displaying. Her hair hung down her back in perfect, flawless curls, not a tangle in sight and a bright pink ribbon nested at the top. She was just...all around perfect; a perfect, flawless Angel. One that I really, really _didn't_ deserve to lay eyes on.

I watched with a tearing heart as our daughter ran into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly and planting two kisses on each of her cheeks; those should have been my kisses. I should have been the one she was running to for a strong embrace. She should have loved me, just as well as Courtney. But I'd killed her, so obviously killed the soul that had deserved to breathe and see the light of day for more than a few mere hours.

I didn't know what had come over me. All I knew that all of a sudden, I was kneeling on the floor, clutching my head while salty drops of water were trickling down rapidly down my face and the strangest sobs were coming out of my throat.

She didn't know me, she didn't recognize me. Of course she didn't…I'd never thought that she would, but on the other hand but I'd wanted her to see me and love me and hold me so badly. I'd messed up. I was just one, big screw up. That's what I was. I didn't deserve to be loved, not by anyone. I was a monster, a sick, selfish, brutal monster. I couldn't see anything in front of me; all I knew was that the tears were still running down my cheeks, and the world was spinning.

"Mama, who's he?" A small voice squeaked, yet it didn't cease my unexplainable grief. "He's nobody, Channa," the girl who had once loved me with all her heart spoke, cold and bitter with her words. "Let's go. Papa wanted to see the flowers you picked for him." Slow footsteps walked away from my situated position, and I know knew that I was alone. I was all alone, and I might as well do _something_ to get sent to Hell. I didn't deserve to be here. Not among the living.

I sat there for a while, not saying anything, just letting what was left of my world crumble beneath my trembling fingers. After awhile, the aroma of flowers wafted in my nose, and I winced, not deserving to have something so pleasant privileging me. "I know who you are, you know." A small voice trilled and I resisted looking at its beholder. It couldn't be. She wouldn't have come back for me. And there was no way she could ever know about me. She was much too little to have remembered what I looked like, much less who I was.

"I can't believe that. You shouldn't know me," I spoke, surprisingly with a steady voice.

"You're my daddy, aren't you?"

"…Yes." Slowly, I lifted my head to look at her, meeting her curious gaze.

"Why're you crying?" she trilled softly, putting her hand on my cheek and wiping away a stray tear. She'd touched me. I couldn't believe it, and merely stared into her blue eyes. "Why aren't you talking, Daddy? Why do you just sit, and stare, and keep crying? Don't you want to talk to me?" My mouth hung open, and I tried my hardest to form words and force them to come out; she deserved words, comforting, soothing words that would take the pain and sorrow out of her voice.

"Channa…please…it's not that at all…"

"Do you want to talk, Daddy?" I looked at the small girl in front of me with sheer astonish in my eyes, amazed that she knew everything, yet treated me so calmly. "I…don't think I deserve it. I'm sorry." Yet she grabbed my hand anyways and tried with all her might to pull me up; if the situation hadn't been so grave on my end, I would have laughed.

"Daddy, I _want_ to talk. Please? For me? I'll give you a chance, I swear…" I sighed and let her pull me upwards, proceeding to drag me towards a fat tree before motioning me to sit. I sighed and rested my chin on the palm of my hand, gazing at her, just _amazed_ at how friendly she was being.

"How much do you know?" I asked silently, tearing my eyes from her rosy face,

"I know everything, Daddy…" I hummed bitterly and kept my gaze downward, not daring to look up into her assumedly sad face. Why shouldn't she be upset with me? I killed her. "Why won't you look up at me? Don't you wanna talk to me? Am I not…worthy of looking at?" Every word she spoke plunged the knife deeper into what was left of my heart, and I cringed, again, and again, and again.

"Channa…"

"Why'd you kill me, Daddy!" she exclaimed, making my head snap up to stare at her with utter hurt. "Wasn't I good enough, for you? Wasn't I pretty enough? Did…you not want me? Was I…that unholy? That evil?" I saw the pain in her eyes. I watched in utter horror as a tear slipped down her pale cheek until it fell off her wan face. How could I ever explain to her how much I _did_ want her, and _did_ love her, more than she would ever know?

"Channa…, please, don't cry, Darling …I'll explain everything…" What was there to explain? That she was right? That I hadn't wanted her, back then? That I'd thought every one of those very things about her? Maybe there really was nothing to explain. She sniffled, wiping her runny nose on the back of her hand.

"Alright, fine. You can explain. I want to know why you killed me; I want to know why you gave me up. I want to know why I couldn't _mean_ something to you, when Mama meant so much to you…I can see it, in your eyes." How old was she, anyways, to be talking in such a serious and hurt manner? How much I had missed of her small, baby years; I would've given anything I had to have them back.

"I…I'm sorry. I know, it doesn't mean much…but, you want the whole truth?" She nodded slowly, and I took a deep breath before continuing. "I'd never stopped thinking about you, or loving you, since the day I'd…sent you to your death. Your mother…I loved her. I still do, with all my heart. She was, and still is my entire world, and she meant so, so much to me. And…I didn't want to share her; so when she told me she was expecting you, I overreacted and thought I'd ruined her life and stormed out. But I came back, because I loved her. She was sick; very, very sick. I knew that if she gave birth, she would die. I didn't want to believe it, but it was the truth. And that's why I hated you, right before you were born. Yet, when I held you…in my arms…for the very first time…" I paused, swallowing the small lump in my throat. "You were something, little Channa. I'd loved you, right from when I first looked into your pretty, little blue eyes. I'd forgotten about everything, as I'd held you…I couldn't believe I was a father. But I wanted to be, only for you…"

"So…I don't understand…why did you kill me, then, if you'd loved me?" she choked softly, looking down at the grassy floor.

"Because your mother died, a little while after. And I'd overreacted, and blamed you, because I had the pride of a devil, back then. And…I thought you should be killed off….but I was wrong; so unbelievably wrong. It's the one thing I would change, given the chance. I would have kept you living. I would have taken care of you, and given you a loving home that you deserved. I missed so much of your life, already, little Channa. I'd never gotten to see your first smile, nor your first steps, nor your first words…and now you stand and talk before me, like a little lady. I'm so sorry, Channa…

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you…I'm sorry I betrayed you and your mother, I'm sorry I wasn't able to be the father that you deserved. I'm sorry that your mother now hates me now with all the hate in her heart, but I deserve it. I don't deserve to look upon such an angel as you, I didn't deserve to give you your beautiful name, I don't deserve to be such an unworthy father. I'm sorry I—"

"Daddy?" My eyes looked up at her, noticing she was right next to me now, instead of a few feet away. She stroked her small hand along my cheek, almost curiously.

"Yes, Channa?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For sending me here, to be with Mama, and her Papa. I know you love me plenty…but Mama needed me. And I needed her. I knew you'd come here eventually, and we would be one happy family again. Thank you, Daddy. And…I love you, no matter what Mama says. I forgive you, too." Those were all the words I needed to hear before I grabbed her arm and yanked her close, hugging her tightly. She wrapped her arms around my neck and wouldn't let go, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I sat her on my lap and cried into her soft hair, hugging her tightly to me.

She loves me, and she forgave me.

God bless her soul, for forgiving the person who killed her.

"Daddy….Daddy please, don't cry. I'm alright, you're okay now. You're okay. Daddy, please…stop crying…for me?" I ceased my tears and pulled back to look at her, her face creased in worry, unsure of what to do or why I was crying. She wiped away the lingering tears gently with her small thumb, kissing my cheek tenderly afterwards. "I don't understand, Daddy…there's no reason to cry. I'm happy…I got to finally have a daddy that loves me." I cupped her small chin in my hand and kissed her cheeks, happy at my daughter's beaming smile.

"My sweet baby…I love you, so, so much. It means the world that you forgive me, and I swear, from now on, I'll be here for you. No matter what; not even if your mother won't let you see me, I will sneak away and brave through the dangers, just to be with you…" This time she was the eager one who thrust her arms around my neck and started to cry. "You mean it Daddy? You really mean it?" I kissed her hair and hugged her back just as tight.

"Of course I mean it, Channa. I won't leave you again. I swear." We sat like that for a while, with her on my lap, wrapped safely, out of harm's way in my tight embrace.

Never again would I be so foolish enough to let her go.

**o 0 O 0 o**

Frantically running around, I called out for my daughter again, looking under this tree, and that bush, just to find her. I hadn't seen her leave the house; she hadn't told me where she was going. What if she'd run away? What if she'd gotten into trouble?

Considering her father was in town, now, I ran around faster, urgently calling out for my sweet baby to come back to me. I swore from the day that we both landed here I'd never let her out of my sight, and now she was gone. I swore under my breath, proceeding to call out for her again.

To no use; she was gone.

What if Duncan had kidnapped her? The thought made a large pit swell in my stomach as I collapsed on a tree stump. He wouldn't have done such a thing…would he? I didn't trust him anymore; not in the least, considering he'd killed our daughter, and now that he was trying so hard to get her back. I wouldn't trust him with her; not for the world.

He didn't deserve her. Not after what he'd done. The fact that he got to lay eyes on her was more than unnecessary, and he was lucky enough to get what he did. That should have been enough. It was more than he deserved. I stood up again, running my hand through my hair before spinning around, trying to locate my daughter once more.

"Channa." I spun around, only to come face to face with Papa, and my face slumped in distress. He beckoned me to come forward and I did, hugging him tightly and allowing him to kiss my head and rub the small of my back.

"Papa, I can't find her…I swore I'd never let her out of my sight…and…and…" I sniffled, unable to go on if I wanted my eyes to refrain from tearing.

"Shh…don't worry, Darling. She's probably playing in some valley or something, and will be home by dinner. She'll be back."

"And what if she's with her father? Then what? I don't want him next to her! Not after what he did…"My eyes creased as I leaned my head into Papa's shoulder.

"So what if she is? I know you've been watching him, all this time. I know you still love him, Baby. I think we both know he's paid his price. He deserves to have his daughter."

"No, he most certainly does not! He killed her, Papa! He killed her! He broke her heart…"

"Don't you mean he broke _your_ heart? Channa forgave him, a long time ago."

"Well…not this Channa…I can't forgive him. I just…can't. He broke me…" Papa chuckled suddenly and patted my cheek, removing himself from our embrace and strolling over a few feet before grinning madly at me.

"You know that's not true anymore. You love him. You'll forgive him, and soon too. I know you will. And then, you'll have another child." I turned red immediately and began to sputter; amazed that he would even say such an impudent thing. He merely chuckled again and pointed off to a distance. "She's there. I know she is. Now go, and I'll make dinner tonight."

"You can't cook."

"Ah, Channa, but for you I'll try."


End file.
